Enemy Series - Story 2 - Amid the Encircling Gloom
by Gypsy Silverleaf
Summary: Sequel to Across Enemy Lines . . . six years later, Draco is a fugitive in both the wizardry and Muggle worlds. We learn he broke up with Hermione, who now works at the Daily Prophet & is an enemy of the Minister of Magic (Arthur Weasley) years before...
1. Part 1

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

< >The young man sat at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, hunched over an untouched drink, doing absolutely nothing except feeling extremely sorry for himself. A single, solitary, unannounced tear rolled down his cheek and dropped into the drink with a soft splash that no one but the man heard. 

< >Tom, the bartender, said nothing to silent man, as he hummed merrily to himself while cleaning the vodka glasses a few feet down at the old-Muggle looking cash register. Tom knew enough as the owner of the old tavern to leave people alone until they left at closing time, even if they had been there all day. 

< >A heavy sort of summer mist held the room as a heavy, bronze-yellow light from outside summer London shone in through the concealed windows. There were only a few people in the Leaky Cauldron that late afternoon-early evening time, including the forlorn-looking, young man. 

< >The young man stared down at his drink, seeing a faint reflection of himself in the liquid and ice. He looked terrible. His blue eyes that used to sparkle with diversity and the cunning innocence of a child, now looked dull and faded. His blonde hair that had once shone in the sun like it had been part of the daystar itself, had lost its vibrant color in the past few years of the man's existence. And his face looked bony and rigid; though it had always looked like that, his face color had lessened, making him look as pale and bleak white as a vampire, if that was somehow possible. 

< >"Hello, Tom!" a cheery voice called loudly as a man came through the Muggle way of the Leaky Cauldron. The loud voice had startled the young man so severely, used to the near-silence of the tavern, he jumped, and snapped his head to the door. 

< >A man with bright red hair and wearing a brown, pinstriped suit strolled in, tapping a cedar cane along the floor jovially. The polished cane was, obviously, to the younger man, that by the way the other man carried it, it was used just for show. He tipped his brown hat at the young man as he promenaded jauntly by. The younger man did nothing and turned back to stare down at his drink, annoyed he had been disturbed. 

< >"Hello, Percy, m' boy!" Tom said in friendly greeting as the red-haired man stopped in front of him. "You want a drink - or are you just here for business, as usual?" He chuckled. 

< >"Well, Tom, I'd _love_ a martini," the red-haired man admitted rather sheepishly, smiling devilishly, "but as I _am_ here for business, it wouldn't be proper to show up to the Ministry drunk, now would it?" He laughed at his joke. 

< >Tom laughed as he set down his rag and glass. "No, I doubt the Ministry would like that," he agreed. "Especially your father." 

< >The red-haired man sighed. "Yes, Arthur is not too fond of me making a spectacle of myself - _or_ him." He sighed again, tapping his cane on the ground a few times. "Though it is quite funny to see him infuriated - especially when you're drunk!" 

< >Tom laughed again. "I wouldn't know, Mr. Weasley," he replied, seemingly amused. 

< >The young man looked up again, recognizing the name with some surprise. 

< >"No, I suppose I am the only one to know what that is like," the red-haired man said, feeling his chin. He shrugged. Suddenly, he seemed to feel the young man's eyes on him and he turned his head in the man's direction. 

< >The young man quickly looked away and took a feverish sip of his drink. 

< >"Who is _that_?" Percy Weasley asked Tom in a low voice, leaning to whisper. He did, however, voice his question loud enough so the young man would be able to hear the conversation quite well. 

< >Tom made a sound like he was shrugging. "I don't know," he replied softly, picking up another cup and his rag to continue cleaning. "He came in earlier and has been sitting there since then, not talking at all." 

< >"Hmm," Percy murmured. He then strolled over to the young man, Tom watching curiously, and tapped the man's barstool to catch his attention. He did. The young man looked up at Percy with a faint look of resent and annoyance, saying nothing. 

< >"My friend and I were just wondering who you were, my good sir," Percy challenged the man, trying to sound jaunty while prying. "Neither of us has ever seen you before! It is surprising, because Tom has probably seen every witch and wizard in Great Britain, and me, almost as many, but not _you_!" 

< >"I tend to stay aloof," came a soft reply, giving no information about anything. 

< >Percy raised an eyebrow. "Aye?" he queried, pressing for more information. 

< >The young man stood up and took his jacket that he had put next to him on the bar. He shrugged it on. "I see I have out stayed my welcome here." He looked over Percy's shoulder to Tom. "I have paid for this." Meaning his drink that still sat, mostly full, on the counter. 

< >Tom nodded and pretended he was going back to cleaning. 

< >The young man tried to step around Percy, but Percy jabbed his cane at him gently. He was forced to stop. He glared up at the red-haired man, that stood at least a foot taller than he, which was quite tall. 

< >"I only asked a simple question," Percy pressed. 

< >"And I only gave a simple answer. Now, if you _will_ excuse me - " 

< >"See here! I think I do deserve a bit more respect than that!" 

< >"Why?" the young man demanded. "Who are _you_ to tell me what to do?" 

< >Percy was speechless for a second, but only a second. "Do you _not_ know who I am?" he asked rather dejectedly, frowning. He obviously thought _everyone_ knew him, the young man noted with distaste. 

< >"No," the young man admitted defiantly, "and I doubt I would want to. Excuse me, I will be leaving now." He tried to sidestep Percy, but Percy stomped his cane on the floor angrily. 

< >"Sir, if you will excuse _me_, I just asked your name." 

< >"And let you forget it in five minutes?" the young man snapped angrily. He chuckled shortly. "I wouldn't even waste the breath." 

< >"With all due respect, you are wasting more breath by resisting than telling me just a simple name," Percy sneered, tapping the young man's right shoe with the cane. "Why don't you just tell me your name and we can both be on our way." 

< >The young man gritted his teeth and said nothing. 

< >Percy smiled slyly. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked. 

< >The young man forced a smile. "Interesting idea," he said, his smile growing larger and more snide, like he was planning something. He pushed past Percy and walked out of the tavern to its backyard where he tapped the brick wall. 

< >Diagon Alley was just as hazy as the Leaky Cauldron had been and just as warm under the late summer sun. The young man wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and forced himself to walk along the cobblestone street, hands stuffed into his long, overcoat pockets, head down. 

< >Some passerby gave his critical looks, as if he should not be there, others ignored him. That was how he liked it. No one caring who he was or what he did, as long as he did it quietly. No one would remember him in ten minutes; he would pass out of their lives like the bird that flew by in the air that they just happened to see out of the corner of their eyes. It was an acquired taste, be assured. 

< >The young man was a stranger to Diagon Alley. He had not set foot in the damn Muggle-like strip mall of a place for six years. It had not changed much, but still, he almost had a bit trouble finding Knockturn Alley, though he didn't know why. He would often go there as a child. 

< >When he did find Knockturn Alley, he stopped in front of the vortex that, if he stepped over, would lead him God knew where, and why the hell would he want to go down there? was always a question he asked himself. 

< >There was an answer, of course, but he did not want to admit. For as long as he had not been to Diagon Alley and longer, he had not seen his parents. They had shunned him long ago for his leaving home when they had wanted him to become what he had not wanted to become . . . but just to see an old, familiar face . . . Oh, for Pete sakes! What was he thinking? _I might as well see Harry Potter's face if I want to see someone familiar!_ he cursed himself. 

< >He spun around to stalk away from Knockturn Alley's entrance and collided right into someone walking by. The young man jumped back and watched the person, a young woman, fall down onto her hands and knees. 

< >The man stared down at her, disbelieving that he had run into someone. "I - I am very sorry!" he said breathlessly, trying fruitlessly to help the woman up. "I - I didn't mean to - " 

< >"That is quite all right," the woman said as she collected her papers. She smiled, but didn't look at him yet. "I need a little excitement in my life." 

< >The young man put a hand to his head, shoving back his disheveled hair, and turned around to see if anyone had seen or if anyone was actually around. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself. He cursed himself over and over again. 

< >" - but I do accept your apology . . . sir?" 

< >The man realized she was talking and turned back around. He stared. 

< >"Oh - my - God," the woman whispered hoarsely, dropping her papers and books again. She stared at the young man in pure amazement and shock. "Draco Malfoy . . . is that . . . is that . . . _you_?" 

< >The young man turned and ran past her, running into her again and causing her to stumble backward into a bench, staring after him. He hurried through Leaky Cauldron, making Tom and the few others in the tavern stare after him and he pushed out the front door into London. 

< >Draco put his hands on his shaking knees and put his head between them, breathing harshly. He stopped after a few seconds and hurried down the sidewalk, disappearing around a corner, just moments before Hermione Granger ran out of the Leaky Cauldron, calling his name. 

~

< >"My _word_! Hermione Granger! Come to see _me_?" Percy Weasley cried with fake enthusiasm, embracing her, but being careful not to touch her with his hands. "Why _are you_ here? 

< >"To drop off paperwork _only_, Mr. Weasley - from my office," Hermione replied coldly, "so you can look it over, as you so diligently requested. Be assured, I was only in the area, or I wouldn't have come at all." She growled out her last words. 

< >Percy smiled with amusement and with an air conceit and abundant arrogance, as if he was somehow better and smarter than she was. "Be assured, _Ms._ Granger, I would not have been bothered if you hadn't come at all," he replied cheerily. "How is that wonderful office of yours? I doubt it is as exciting as the Ministry job I offered you." 

< >"Probably not, Mr. Weasley, but it's damn better than working for _you_." 

< >"Where _did_ we go wrong in our friendship department, Hermione?" Percy asked sweetly. He smiled arrogantly and his eyes sparkled with uncanny malice as he tried to stare her down. 

< >Hermione's eyes flashed darkly. "You will find the paperwork in order. At least, most of it. I had a run in with a character outside Knockturn Alley and he made me drop the papers twice. The second time, I didn't care whatever order it was in. You can put it in order yourself, Mr. Weasley. Good-bye - and good riddance," she added quietly. 

< >"Wait!" Percy said urgently, standing up from his the chair he had been slowly turning in since she had arrived. He also set down the pen he'd been twirling around in his hands, showing off his distaste for her. 

< >Hermione turned around, annoyed. "What _is_ it? The sooner I get out of here, the better - for both of us and your damn family," she snapped. 

< >Percy waved her comments off and Hermione's anger skyrocketed. "Was - this character - was he blonde, blue-eyed, and about yay high?" he asked, putting a hand to his shoulder. 

< >Hermione blinked in surprise, but she immediately became suspicious. "Yes. _Why_?" she demanded, seating herself in one of Percy's leather chairs in front of his polished, oak desk. 

< >Surprised himself, Percy sat down as well. "I believe I had a run in with the same man just half an hour or forty-five minutes ago. Very rude, indeed." He leaned forward. "Did you possibly catch a name, Hermione?" he asked. 

< >"I _know_ his name, Percy," she said, glaring at him sourly. 

< >This was Percy's turn to blink with surprise. He stared at her. "You - you _do_?" he sputtered, leaning even more forward, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Who was he? The man? _Please_ - tell me!" 

< >"Why should I?" Hermione growled suspiciously. "What did you do to him?" 

< >Percy leaned backward into his chair. "I confronted him in the Leaky Cauldron. Tom didn't recognize him and neither did I. I wanted to know who he was, because he looked rather odd, hunched over as he was, and I . . . I admit I was a _little_ firm with him," he finished lamely. 

< >Hermione folded her arms across her chest and laughed snidely. "A _little_?" she laughed. "Did - did - " she snorted uproariously, "did - did you - ? _No_! You _didn't_! You _demanded_ his name, didn't you?" She had to cover her face to muffle her sniggers of rancor and antipathy. 

< >Percy turned red and looked away. "Maybe . . ." 

< >"_Maybe_!" Hermione laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. 

< >"_Enough_!" Percy shouted, pounding his fist onto his desk sharply. 

< >Hermione stopped laughing, looked at him, and burst into giggles again. "Oh, you _have _done it this time, Percy! You _really_ have! Your father will have your head!" She forced herself to stop laughing and brushed the joyful tears from her eyes and looked at him. "I always wondered when that day would come - and its coming soon!" 

< >"What _do_ you mean?" Percy demanded sharply, angrily glaring at her because he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "What _did_ I do, Hermione, that my father _would_ - ?" 

< >Hermione leaned forward. "_Guess_, you idiot." 

< >"Tell me now!" Percy yelled. 

< >"You are telling me you didn't recognize the man?" Hermione demanded, obviously enjoying her taunting Percy in its fullest. "You did not recognize the _most wanted _man in all of Europe and many other countries in the world?" She threw back her head and laughed. She clapped her hands together gleefully. 

< >Percy stared at her and clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming with fury. "You are _not_ serious," he managed to choke out. He looked ready to break out and sob, feeling already the wrath of his father swooping down on him. 

< >"I am very serious," Hermione told Percy coldly, her laughter instantly forgotten. "That was Draco Malfoy." 

~

< >Draco trudged through the streets of London. How stupid could he have been? That was _Diagon Alley! Anyone_ could have recognized him! He was greatly surprised, though, that Percy Weasley - for God sakes, his _father_ had been after Draco for years - had not even seemed to recognize him! Unfortunately, though, _someone_ had. 

< >Hermione Granger. 

< >Draco wanted to kick himself. How could he have been so _stupid_? 

< >He turned down an alley and leaned against the brick wall of one building. There would be no doubt that by the next morning, the entire wizarding community of Europe, and who knew what other continents would know by the next afternoon, that the notorious Draco Malfoy had been spotted - in the heart of London, for several hours, in view of many. 

< >The newspapers and magazines would chide anyone who would claim to have seen him, "Why didn't you recognize him? _Why_?" Well, for one, and Draco couldn't blame them, he looked blatantly different than the last time anyone had reportedly seen him. It wasn't startling, however, that Hermione had recognized him. Why wouldn't she? She had seen him in different stages of his life . . . not many others had. 

< >Draco burst into silent tears and slid down the wall into a sitting position. He put his hands over his face. His shoulders shook with misery. He was miserable, alone, and wanted. A lonely, sad, miserable, wanted man. 

< >He was wanted by, well, _many, many_ people. The Ministry, con wizards, even quite a few Muggle governments. He was a constant threat to each side with quick cunning, intelligence, threats, and a little magic, he could do almost anything he wanted. 

< >Draco stole government papers and information, sometimes selling them, sometimes holding them ransom. Some of the paperwork would have gotten out sooner or later; Draco just got it out sooner. He sold some to the wizard tabloids, through some lowly reporter wanting more than he or she was getting. 

< >He also stole money and clothes - though petty next to that he was rumored to have killed more than twenty men, woman, _and_ children, but those were lies. Cons made that up, saying they saw him do it, when, really, they themselves had done the horrible deeds. 

< >It had been fruitless, though, and still was, to plead innocent, when he was guilty of so many other things that could imprison him for years. 

< >Notorious Draco Malfoy was his name. Even Muggles knew his name. He worked for the government, though sometimes against. This terrified the wizard world because they knew, if he wanted, he could leak their secrets . . . all of them. 

< >Why had he done it all? Well, survival, for one thing. It kept him fat and warm. He always had a bed - _somewhere_. It was impossible to have a real home, of course, so he traveled to Muggle motels and inns incognito. Sometimes he stayed in Venice, Italy, where no one would expect him to go, so no one sought for him there. 

< >Finally, Draco stood up, brushed himself off, and left the alley, just walking. He had nothing to do. Maybe he could sneak into the Ministry . . . no, that would be insane. They would be completely on alert for him. 

< >He sighed and decided to walk to King's Cross. Maybe he could catch a ride out to the country for some relaxation . . . he was a wealthy man through his work. He was sure he'd be able to rent a cottage or maybe even a small castle for a month. 

< >King's Cross was not as busy, since it was just before the rush hour, but busy enough that if any Ministry workers came after him, he could lose himself in the crowd stealthily. 

< >Draco bought his ticket easily - the train was not going to be at all full, said the ticket master - and strode down the station, whistling to himself, smiling broadly at anyone who gave him a second glance. He was confident now, that no one would look for him in the country. And if they even suspected, he would know, and he would go to Venice. It was lovely during the summer months. 

< >As Draco passed Platform Nine and Three-Quarters he felt his eyes slowly turn toward it. It was lonely looking, the barrier was. Not one person went through it. He forced his eyes away from the platform and continued down a ways until he reached his own platform and boarded the train, finding his compartment thankfully empty. 

< >He sat back in his seat with a content sigh and closed his eyes. 

< >The train started off about twenty minutes after that and still, no one had entered the cabin. Draco was happy about that; he wouldn't have wanted to speak with anyone. He was alone with his thoughts and he was slightly at peace with himself. 

< >"Ticket, sir?" came a loud voice, jostling Draco out of his thoughts. 

< >He opened his eyes and fished the ticket out of his pocket. He handed it over. 

< >"Thank you very much, sir," the man said cheerily, handing it back to Draco a few seconds later. He tipped his hat. "Have a nice trip!" The man left the cabin and strolled away, whistling, to the next compartment. 

< >At around seven that evening, Draco left the cabin and went to the dinner car, ordering a brandy on the rocks. He couldn't stand the smell of the food cooking, so he sat a very small booth, slowly sipping his bitter drink. He also hated alcohol, but it normally calmed his nerves a bit, so he allowed himself to drink it. 

< >About ten minutes later, he left, and retreated back to his cabin to sleep. 


	2. Part 2

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

< >When Draco stepped out of the train early the next morning, he breathed in deeply. The sweet smell of the countryside tickled his nose lavishly. He sighed and left the small station, in search of a realty office he knew was in the vicinity. 

< >He found it, but found he had to wait a few hours for it to open. Draco, just a bit depressed, walked into a small restaurant serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner - "At any time, day or night!" according to a sign in the window. 

< >The diner owner, a woman who introduced herself as Pena Andrews, had a rosy, kind face, big brown eyes. She was pump and jolly and enjoyed speaking with him, since he was her only customer other than her grandson and granddaughter who ran around the room giggling and playing. 

< >"Aren't you a little young to be out here on your own?" Pena teased. 

< >Draco shook his head. "No, not particularly," he replied with a mysterious smile. "I may be young, but not _that_ young!" He chuckled despite himself. He liked Pena. "I am looking for a place to stay for about a month. Just for a long rest." 

< >Pena smiled broadly. "I know just the place!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. 

< >Draco regarded her with surprise. "Where?" he asked. 

< >"With me! I own this quaint little cottage outside the town . . ." she lowered his voice so her grandchildren could not hear, ". . . and I'm a little short on money," Pena admitted. "I think you might enjoy it!" She looked desperate, especially when she softly added, "Business hasn't been really booming . . ." 

< >Draco smiled at her. "Of course. I would love to!" His luck was wonderful. He was able to get a train ticket easily, a smooth ride out, and an offer to live in a cottage in less than twelve hours. 

< >Pena looked ecstatic and she gave Draco a small peck on the cheek. "I live there with my daughter, Olivia, and the youngins', but . . ." She smiled. "It gets very quiet out there and I am sure you will love it there." 

~

< >Pena's grandchildren showed him the way to their home, hold onto each of his hands, skipping through the lush, green grass of the surrounding hills. Mikaela was only five and Peter seven, but they adored Draco. 

< >Draco felt awful about this, though, because what if they found out . . . ? He smacked himself in his mind. He wouldn't let them know. He couldn't. It would be extremely painful on them and it would tear him apart. Draco, himself, had already fallen in love with the little children. 

< >Their names were Mikaela and Peter, both with sandy blond hair and sparkling, full of life, blue eyes. They sorely reminded Draco of himself at such an innocent age, but, he chided himself, had he really ever been innocent? 

< >Pena's "cottage" was more like a farm house. It was two stories high with an old, thatch roof in need of repair, but it was obviously put there for the old look; there was shingling poking through the gray of the thatch. The hour had a small porch and reminded Draco of the house in the American movie _The Wizard of Oz_. The house would have looked out of place, but it was the only house he could see, so it didn't, strangely . . . 

< >Beyond the house were almost endless fields and hills. He saw a shepherd with a figure tending them. _Serenity_, he thought to himself. _Quiet, beautiful - just what I need. Exactly what the doctor ordered, if I had a doctor . . ._

< >"That's our house!" Mikaela squealed, letting go of Draco's hand and running ahead, crying, "Mummy, Mummy! Come meet Mr. Jennings! Grammy's invited him to stay with us!" She was very fast for her age and in just a few seconds, she was fifty yards ahead of Draco and Peter, and fifty from the house. 

< >Peter let go of Draco's hand, but did not chase after his sister. He was trying to mimic Draco's serious face and his careful, straight walk. He stumbled a bit, but said nothing, except turned red. Draco smiled and ruffled his hair. Peter grinned up at Draco appreciatively. 

< >Draco and Peter reached the Andrews' house a few minutes later. Olivia Andrews stood on the porch with Mikaela at her side, smiling and giggling. Olivia, however, looked slightly suspicious and very tired; her mouse-brown hair fell limply around her shoulders and her brown eyes wore bags. She looked ill. 

< >"You are Mr. Jennings?" she asked, raising her chin a bit, trying to steady herself. 

< >Draco stopped at the bottom step up to the porch and Peter ran up to his sister, grabbing her hand. They both ran back down the porch and away from Draco and Olivia, giggling excitedly. 

< >"Yes." Draco nodded respectfully at her and held out a hand. "Draco Jennings." 

< >Olivia shook his hand feebly. "Olivia Andrews-Malcot." 

< >Draco did not question her last name as he dropped his hand, suspecting either she was a widow or her husband had just left. "I told your mother, Pena, my interest in staying out here for about a month and she surprised me with offering board. Is that all right with you, I hope?" 

< >Olivia nodded. "She telephoned me about twenty minutes ago. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jennings," she said lifelessly, almost as if she was dead, and being controlled like a robot by someone else. 

< >"And I you, Ms. Malcot." 

< >Olivia smiled gently at him and walked to a small rocking chair on the porch. Draco walked up the steps and leaned against the rail. 

< >"This house . . . it is a little odd, is it not?" 

< >Olivia smiled again, more broadly and proudly this time, though. "My late father grew up in Kansas, out in America, but fled to Europe to escape being drafted in the war. He was an architect and built this house." 

< >"I would have guessed that," Draco said, smiling. "My first thought when I saw this house was Auntie Em, Auntie Em!" He chuckled softly. 

< >Olivia laughed, but the laugh ended with a horrendous cough. 

< >"Are - are you all right?" Draco asked, concerned. 

< >Olivia recovered and nodded weakly. "Yes, yes, quite all right. I am just a little sick." She smiled as best she could at him and he did not press her, since he tried to be a gentlemen in the company of anyone, unless he was doing business. "A month, did you say?" 

< >"If that is all right, of course. Yes," Draco replied hurriedly. 

< >"Of course it is!" Olivia laughed. "I need some company out here, when the children are with Mother." She leaned back and sighed; her eyes looked a little forlorn, Draco noticed. "It gets rather lonely out here all day, with just Helena and the chickens." 

< >"Helena?" Draco asked, confused. 

< >"My older daughter. She's fourteen years old. You might have seen her tending to the sheep when you were coming down," Olivia said, thumbing backward. "She tends them for about four hours every day during the summer and tends to the rest before and after that. It hurts me that I cannot help her, but the children will soon be old enough to help . . ." She coughed again, just as worse as the time before, into a handkerchief. 

< >Draco swallowed nervously, thinking that Olivia must be diagnosed with cancer or some other God awful disease. "I thought that was just a shepherd's boy, but I was too far away." 

< >Olivia nodded, agreeing. "It is hard to tell." She took and deep breath and rose to her feet. "Let me show you your room. It's near the back of the house with your own bathroom, so you should be comfortable." She stopped and stared at him, realizing he had no bags. "Have you no suitcases?" 

< >Draco shook his head. "I travel light; my things are coming in the next train tomorrow morning," he added quickly, lying. He could buy some clothes when he supposedly went for his bags. "I don't like having to carry things if I don't have to." 

< >"Ah," Olivia said, gesturing to the door. "Come on in." 

< >Draco followed her into the house and straight up a flight of narrow stairs. Olivia had to hold the shaky banister to keep her balance. They turned down a hall and walked the full length to a single door. She opened it and walked straight across the room to open a window. 

< >He understood why. The room was mildly dusty and smelled of mothballs, as if no one had slept in it for a while. It was, actually, apparent that no one had for at least a few months, or even a year, at best. 

< >Olivia dusted off the bed and fluffed the pillows. "I'm sure you'll be comfortable here," she said smiling. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Well, I'm off to do the only thing I can do. Lunch will be ready in an hour. Why don't you sleep for a while?" 

< >Draco still had a crick in his neck from the train ride. "No, that's all right," he replied, rolling his heck around to get rid of the pain. He looked at her and smiled warmly. "Would you like any help?" 

< >She was about to shake her head no, but she stopped, and peered out the window where Peter and Mikaela were playing with a mangy looking, brown dog. "Actually, I'd love some help with watching them. Would you mind?" 

< >"No, no, of course not," Draco said. "They are wonderful to be around!" 

< >Olivia smiled and sighed, her eyes slightly watering. "Yes, they are," she agreed. She looked down at her clasped hands and realized they were shaking. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. 

< >Draco put a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her downstairs silently, not wanting to perturb her by asking questions or trying lamely to reassure her that it was all right. Sometimes, some people hated that and made their conditions worse. Olivia stood out like that sort of character, in Draco's mind. 

< >He left her at the kitchen table, giving her a smile, and left the house to chase after Mikaela and Peter who looked delighted to see him again; unfortunately, so did the dog, who had never seen him before. 

< >Draco was brought to the ground as the dog literally jumped into his arms and excitedly licked and sniffed at him. It was a medium sized mutt, a chocolate Labrador mixed with something else. If that wasn't the case on why the dog was a mousy brown, and just dirty, Draco would have called him a golden retriever, but he had no idea, and forgot about it as he carefully pushed the dog off him. 

< >Mikaela giggled and playfully scolded the dog, "Anna, you bad girl!" 

< >Anna the dog whined protestingly, wondering why she was bad, and clamped her mouth softly around Draco's hand. She looked up at him pitifully and he laughed. "No, Anna's a good girl," he teased, pulling his hand out of Anna's mouth. Anna wagged her tail and ran off to chase a wandering, lone chicken. 

< >Peter grabbed Draco's hand and pulled on him. "Let's go!" he cried, running off with Mikaela right on his tail. 

< >"Where?" Draco called, chasing after the two children. 

< >They didn't answer and disappeared over a hill. Draco reached the top of the hill a split second later and watched the two roll down the hill. Despite himself, he followed and quickly reached them, picking them up by their middles, and carried them a ways. They giggled and laughed until he set them down on the side of a another hill. 

< >Draco fell into the grass on his back, head in his arms. He sighed, staring up at the sky. It was a beautiful day. He felt he could lay there forever and closed his eyes, relaxing in the warm sun. 

< >He heard Mikaela and Peter playing a few feet from him, giggling with the childish innocence that he had lost forever and even questioned himself if he'd ever had the luxury of ignorance that children normally had . . . Draco opened his eyes and sat up. 

< >Mikaela and Peter were gathering wild flowers and frolicking in the tall grass. After a few minutes, they ran up to him, and Mikaela thrust a bouquet of flowers into his hands. 

< >Draco looked at them for a moment, a smile growing across his face. He set down the flowers and drew his legs into him. "Come here," he said in a low voice, still smiling. 

< >Peter and Mikaela leaned in anxiously. 

< >"Have you ever seen magic? Like in fairy tales?" Draco asked them. 

< >They shook their heads, looking intrigued. 

< >"Would you like to see magic?" 

< >"_Real_ magic?" Peter asked doubtfully. 

< >Draco nodded vigorously. "_Real_ magic, Peter, but not like 'Abracadabra' or 'Hocus Pocus' - _real_ magic. Would you like to see some?" 

< >"Yeah!" the two children chorused. 

< >"Sit down and be amazed!" Draco said enthusiastically. He took a flower and delicately pulled off the petals as the two children sat on either side of him, forming a small triangle. 

< >Draco held the dark pink petals out in his hands for them to see. "These are just ordinary petals, right?" Mikaela and Peter nodded and Draco smiled mischievously. "Not any more." 

< >To their amazement, Draco blew softly on the petals, uttered a few words, and the petals rose from his hands. They formed themselves into a sort of slow tornado and spun around idly, rising high above Draco's out-stretched palm. 

< >Mikaela laughed and clapped her hands together. Peter stared, openmouthed. 

< >The petals slowly fell back into Draco's outstretched hand, then blew away in a cool, summer breeze. The two children stared at Draco and he smiled at them, pulling his hand back. 

< >"Magic," he said, nodding. "But we mustn't tell anyone! This is _our_ secret!" 

< >Mikaela and Peter nodded, looking excited, but Draco shook his head. "You have to promise - no, you have to _swear_ to keep this a secret. For as long as you live! There are people after me who want to take my powers away!" he cried desperately, hating to lie, but having to, if he wanted to protect himself. 

< >"We _swear_!" Peter said, Mikaela nodding. 

< >Draco smiled at them. "Good. Now, go have fun." 

< >Mikaela and Peter, delighted to have a secret - _just their secret_! - ran off down the hill. Draco watched after them, smiling. Not one of them saw a figure standing at the top of the hill above them, staring down at Draco. 

~

< >"You followed him out of the Leaky Cauldron - and you _didn't find him_?" Percy Weasley demanded sharply. "How - what - _why_ - ?" He was getting even more hysterical and angry - and directing it all on her, as if she was to blame, that _she_ hadn't caught Draco. 

< >Hermione Granger jumped to her feet. "I was far behind him and shocked out of my mind, you ingrate!" she shouted angrily. "He could Apparated _anywhere_ as soon as he left the Cauldron! He could be in America by now, for all we know!" 

< >Percy put his head in his hands miserably, took them away, and dropped his head on the desk. "We have to alert my father," he said dolefully. He hit his head on the desktop a few more times until he let it rest there, not moving at all. 

< >"No, let's just not tell _anyone_," Hermione sneered, dropping back into her seat. 

< >Percy looked up and glared at her. 

< >"Sometimes I enjoy moments like this," Hermione said, smiling bitterly. "It takes a con man - _and_ a possible _murderer_ - to get your ass kicked by your father. I think I'm going to rather enjoy this, Percy. You're father will cut off your arms!" She laughed uproariously. "You won't be able to carry around that ridiculous stick anymore and poke criminals with it anymore!" 

< >"Shut up," Percy moaned, hitting his head on the desk again twice. "Damn it! What am I going to tell Arthur? God only knows what he'll do to me when he finds out I got him angry, _not_ to mention that I even saw him! I can't believe I didn't recognize him! No one in the Leaky Cauldron did, either, not even Tom! And his picture has been plastered all over _The Daily Prophet _for years!" 

< >"Stop your moaning, you idiot," Hermione snapped, kicking the desk with her foot. He looked up at her. "You are _so_ pathetic it makes me want to spit. Get off your high horse and tell your father you screwed up. Your whining and moaning isn't going to catch Draco Malfoy." 

~

< >Draco and the children returned to the house forty minutes later, carrying even more flowers that Draco had suggested giving to Olivia as a nice gift. 

< >When the walked into the kitchen, they found Olivia at the stove, and a brown-haired girl with blue eyes sitting at the kitchen table, wearing dusty jeans, and a muddy - or, at least, Draco thought it was mud - shirt, reading an old newspaper, and drinking something dark and steaming. Her eyes looked up at him suspiciously. Draco, confused, mirrored the image for a split second, then looked away. 

< >"Hello," Olivia said to Draco absently, taking the flowers from her cheery, red-faced children, and thanking them graciously. She then turned her attention to Draco. "I see you had a good time." 

< >Draco nodded, smiling confidently. "I thank you for letting me watch them. They're wonderful, as I told you." He smiled and held out another bouquet of roses, but held it to the younger girl. "Here. I thought the other lady of the house would like some flowers." Draco smiled at her and handed the wild flowers. 

< >The girl accepted them slowly and looked away from him. "Thank you," she murmured. 

< >"You are very welcome, miss." 

< >"This is my daughter, Helena," Olivia said softly as she turned away. "But I suppose you knew that. She will be in charge of the children for a few weeks . . ." She sighed as she cut a vegetable on the counter in front of her. 

< >"Oh?" Draco regarded Olivia and Helena both with some surprise as he sat at the table, across from the girl. "And why is that, might I ask?" 

< >Helena's eyes looked at him for a second bitterly, as if he had no right to ask. 

< >"Mother is taking me to the hospital in London in a few days and closing the restaurant for the while she stays with me for about a week. Helena will have to watch the children for the time she's gone," came the soft, weak reply. 

< >"I will be able to watch them," Draco offered. 

< >"I don't like to impose - " Olivia began, turning around. 

< >Draco held up a hand. "I do not mind whatsoever. It would be a pleasure." 

< >Helena gave him a sarcastic look that clearly said, "That's makes things _all_ better now, doesn't it? Don't do me any favors." Draco returned the look with pure poison in his eyes, then they looked away from each other. 

< >Olivia did not notice of the look and smiled at him. "Thank you, Mr. Jennings." 

< >"Please, call me Draco, Ms. Malcot," Draco said cheerily. 

< >"Call me Olivia, Draco," Olivia replied, smiling. 

< >"And call me Miss Universe," Helena muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her drink, shaking her head angrily. 

~

< >Arthur Weasley's mouth hung open in shock as he listen to his son's words. 

< >"Father, listen to me!" Percy cried. "Don't you understand? Draco Malfoy - " 

< >"Draco Malfoy was in _Diagon Alley for hours_, Percy!" Arthur Weasley screamed angrily, jumping from his seat to yell at his son. "_Draco Malfoy was in Diagon Alley for hours_! And you let him escape and - " He was cut off by the sound of giggling. 

< >Hermione Granger was leaning against the wall, holding her sides, and laughing. 

< >"_You_," Arthur sneered, rounding his desk and advancing on her. "Were _you_ a part of this? Did you just _let_ Draco _Malfoy_ prance around Diagon Alley?" he demanded accusingly. 

< >Hermione immediately stopped laughing and narrowed her eyes at the Minister. "_Hardly_," she growled. "He ran into me and ran for dear life out of Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron, and probably as far out of London as he could. For God sakes, if he had just kept running the way he was, he could already be in York having an early supper and a glass of wine!" She began laughing again. "I only saw him for a fleeting second, but your son here prodded him with his little cane for five minutes!" 

< >Arthur rounded on Percy. "You _what_?" he screeched. 

< >Percy shrunk back from his father. "God, are you on drugs?" he yelled back. 

< >Hermione fell to the floor in laughter. "Just quite possibly!" she laughed. Arthur glared at her and she suppressed her laughter for a moment. "Well, the idiot's got a point. You've been acting like a Muggle-junkie for years!" 

< >Arthur sighed and went to sit in his chair at his desk. "Life is hard now." 

< >Hermione rose to her feet and dusted herself off. "Yeah, right, Arthur. You lie." 

< >Percy sent a dark look at Hermione. He was an idiot, but not a complete fool. He was respectful of his father and would make sure everyone else was, despite the fact he hated his father now. 

< >The whole Weasley family was at ends with each other and had been since half of them had condemned Hermione for falling in love with Draco. Unfortunately, even if she hadn't, the straight, friendly lines that family had had with each other were bound to break sooner or later. They just found an excuse to come out sooner. 

< >Arguments had been going on for a while, and that's to be common with growing teenagers in the house. Their modest living was getting to the family and they became at odds with each other, wondering why one person wasn't working hard enough on one job, or this, or the next. Fights would spring up many times, Ron had told Hermione, and the family wouldn't talk to each other for days. 

< >It also didn't help that Arthur had gone through a lot about seven or six years before, the first year he had become Minister of Magic in Cornelius Fudge, especially when his wife had died of an untreated illness - no one had known about it until it was too late. Arthur never spoke of it or his wife, and when he did, he would become irate. Everyone suspect his anger made him the spiteful, bitter man he was. His children both loathed and loved him, but loathed him even more. 

< >And the whole Weasley family, except the exception of two or three - it was never clear - hated Hermione with a certain passion for her once loving Draco Malfoy and would hold it against her until either she, or them, was to die, and probably long after that, as well. Hermione would not have hated them, if they had not had made her life horrible trying to find work and just been nasty to her . . . they weren't the Weasleys she had known. Everyone, _everyone_ was different. 

< >That was why Hermione ignored Percy's warning glance with a hateful smile. 

< >Arthur didn't look at her. "Alert the presses," he muttered. "Don't say anything senile about us, or I'll have your head." He looked up at her and smiled shrewdly. "That is, if you don't want that . . . ?" 

< >"Maybe I should just write in the newspaper that you threatened me," Hermione suggested coldly, her eyes narrowing. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. "See you in the news!" she called over her shoulder. 

< >Arthur slammed his fist down on his desk and looked menacingly to his son. 


	3. Part 3

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

< >Draco lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. How could it have been so easy? To have a place to stay in less than twenty-four hours after he left London . . . _how_? It was almost _too_ easy. He knew in the back of his mind that something would happened, but pushed it away, and turned onto his side, determined to sleep, and he did. 

< >In the morning, Draco woke to the cry of a rooster, and looked out the window. The morning dawn was beautiful, but he saw clouds in the distance, and knew the day before had been the last day of summer, for now it was fall, though it wasn't even September yet. Summer was over, however, and autumn was arriving. 

< >He yawned and stretched as he walked downstairs in the clothes he had worn the day before. Pena was in the breakfast nook, cooking breakfast. She gave him a peck on the cheek when he entered the room. 

< >"How was your sleep, dear?" 

< >"Wonderfully relaxing, Miss Andrews. Now, if you will excuse me, I will be going to the train station for a few hours. It should be in by six-thirty and I think I should get some more necessities when the town opens . . . that should be around . . .?" 

< >"Eight or eight-thirty. The town opens whenever it wants to and closes whenever it wants to. If it doesn't open until nine, come and see me at the restaurant." Pena smiled at him. "Well, you'd better get a move on!" 

< >Draco nodded and smiled at her, then left through the front door. As he left the farmhouse, he felt eyes on his back, but refused to show that he noticed by looking over his shoulder. He knew it was Helena, staring down at him from an upstairs window. 

< >He arrived at the train station about thirty minutes later and sat on a bench on the very small platform, only about five feet off the ground, ten feet wide, and thirty feet long, at the most. 

< >The train arrived a while later and only one man got off and one woman got on. A young boy with bright red hair and freckles stared out of his window at Draco. Draco made a face and the boy giggled and mirrored the face. Draco got up and left. He had no luggage - why would he? 

< >He went to the Muggle pay phone and dropped a coin into the slot and dialed a number. "Yes," he said to the person who picked up the phone, "I would like to wire some money from my account to your affiliate bank in - I don't care if you aren't open for business! You shouldn't be answering your phones if you aren't open yet, should you?" he demanded, slamming down the phone. He cursed and trudged to Pena's small restaurant, or breakfast, or whatever it was called. 

< >"No luggage?" Pena asked him as soon as he walked in. 

< >Draco stopped for a second, startled, and continued to the bar she stood behind. He shook his head sheepishly. "I travel possibly too light, but I do have money. I tried to get some wired just a few minutes ago, but the idiots picked up their phones, acting as if they were open - they weren't." He shook his head with a sigh and sat down at the bar. 

< >"Need anything to drink?" Pena asked him, smiling. 

< >He smiled mysteriously at her. "A vodka martini would be wonderful, but I'll settle for that fabulous orange juice you make," Draco replied. 

< >Pena laughed and brought him an orange juice. "I'll add that to your bill," she teased. 

< >Draco took a sip of the juice, then set down the glass. "How much will that be, by the way?" he asked in a low voice. He saw it made Pena uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if the question sounds a bit forward - " Draco began. 

< >"No, of course it doesn't. We would have to settle the matter sometime, anyhow, and why not get past it," Pena said, waving it off. She told him her price on his board rent and it surprised him how little it was. 

< >"That small? I couldn't possibly pay you _that_, while you board _and_ feed me!" 

< >Pena looked away, but said nothing. "It will hold us out for another month and no more protest. I invited you into my home and asked you a fair price. Please, Mr. Draco Jennings, take it. I could not ask for anymore, nor could I ask for any less. It brings me so much shame and the doctor bills for Livvie are . . . well, let's just say they are rather large and leave it at that, all right?" She walked away from the counter. 

< >When the town woke and began to get busy, Pena shooed him out of the store, directing him toward the small bank, the grocery, and men's clothing store down the street a ways. He wouldn't let her push him out though, without giving her a grocery list for the house. 

< >Draco went to the bank first and had the teller wire about four hundred pounds from the bank account under the name "Draco Jennings," one of his many false names, and the name he would be known in the town as. He showed his valid identification card and took his money to the men's store where he bought necessary clothing for wherever he chose to go in the future. A respectable suit that when he wore it, made him look nothing like he did in normal Muggle pants and jacket. 

< >Unfortunately for Draco, all of his regular clothes were stored at an American Express - under the name of Robert S. Graham, Idaho state resident - or in his Venice apartment, under the name of Smithly E. Hemming, Jr., as the Venice residents knew him as, but he liked buying the new clothing. He felt as if he was going into another life, but the truth was, in three months tops, he'd be back to swindling people in London and Moscow, and who knew where else . . . It was what kept him fat and fed. 

< >Around eleven, Draco returned to the Andrews house, carrying four bags in each hand. Two, his own, and the other six for Olivia. His wallet still had one hundred pounds in it, despite all the buying that morning. 

< >When he walked into the house, he was surprised to see Helena in the kitchen, and not Olivia. "Where is your mum?" Draco asked her calmly as he began unloading the groceries. 

< >Helena peered into the bags and looked satisfied. "Sleeping," she said coldly. "She had a headache. Mikaela and Peter are in the living room, watching the tele." Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why don't you go watch them?" 

< >"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Draco asked, smiling at her humbly. 

< >"Of _course_ not," Helena sneered. "No, I _wanted_ you here, the _whole _time. You just waltzed in with your smiles and good manners and charmed the whole family - _except me_." She turned her back on him as she put away a box of cold cereal. 

< >"Ah," Draco said, frowning. "Are you jealous?" His eyes sparkled. 

< >Helena snorted, not looking at him. "Of you? Hardly." 

< >Draco raised his eyebrows doubtfully. "_I_ hardly believe that," he said. 

< >"I have the run of the house when Mother is ill," Helena told him coldly, turning around defensively. "Grandmother has her own work to keep the money in and my only concern of you is not to steal any of our belongings, to stay clear of me, and to pay the rent in full. Nothing more, nothing less." 

< >Draco put up his hands in mock defense. "I can barely live with _that_! Let me at least take the silverware!" He threw back his head and laughed mockingly. 

< >Helena glared at him. "You think you're _so_ special, coming from London. Well, you're not all that special, and I'll tell you that now. Maybe you can sweet talk yourself out of things, or just flash a reassuring smile, but it will not work with me, like it does with my mother and grandmother. And the children don't know any better." 

< >Draco blinked in surprise and stepped backward. "If you are thinking what I think you are thinking, that is just _sick_," he said coldly. "I would _never_ touch you or your family. _How_ could you think such a thing? I could _never_ hurt this family." 

< >"What am I supposed to think, pretty boy?" Helena snapped. 

< >The young man glared at her menacingly and took a step forward. "I had the love of my life before I even turned eighteen and I lost her. I was forced to give her up and I lost her in less than two years. When that happens to you, you will stop. You will _literally_ stop. You will not have any feelings for _anything. Nothing._" Draco forced himself to not cry and continued. "I left her, Helena, the hardest choice I have ever made in my life, and I am not about to take advantage of your family's hospitality for taking a sad, lonely man in." He pulled his bags off the counter. "Think about that." He stormed from the room. 

~

[][1]

**By Hermione Granger   
Editor-in-Chief**

One of the most sought for and notorious men in all of the wizard _and_ Muggle world, next to the Dark Lord himself was spotted yesterday in Diagon Alley.   
< >Draco Malfoy, wanted for fraud, grand theft, and the possible murder of over ten men, women, and children, spent nearly four to five hours in the Leaky Cauldron, hunched over a drink, where no one recognized him.   
< >Even Tom, the bartender and owner of the tavern, who had seen dozens of pictures of Malfoy, didn't recognize him.   
< >He was hunched over, his hair covering his eyes, and looked extremely tired in the face. All the pictures I've seen of him was his looking into the camera directly and extremely shrewd looking. The man I saw looked older than he was and only once looked me in the eye, and I can't even be sure of that."   
< >Percy Weasley, son of the Minister, Arthur Weasley, reportedly talked to Malfoy in the Cauldron, also not recognizing him. It is rumored Weasley angered Malfoy, but Malfoy went off into Diagon Alley without incident.   
< >However, it took this reporter herself to recognize him when he ran into her outside Knockturn Alley (of which he did not venture into, witnesses say).   
< >Malfoy was in the tavern and Diagon Alley for approximately five and a half hours, but ran for his life when he was recognized. He disappeared outside the Leaky Cauldron.   
< > No one has reportedly seen him since then. There is a man hunt on his head, but if anyone sees him, report it to the Ministry at once, but DO NOT try to capture him. He is possibly armed and very threatening to society - both Muggle and wizard. Be wary of his existence anywhere near you. He is a dangerous, lethal man. 

< >Hermione threw down the paper on Arthur Weasley's desk. "There it is. Happy, now? Just be warned, though, Arthur, I am the editor of _The Daily Prophet_, and I can print any damn thing I want, and people will believe me, especially more than you at this point in your career. I can't _wait_ until the next election." She stormed out of the office and down the hall. 

< >She jumped on her broom outside the building and flew back to the offices of _The Daily Prophet_. Hermione disregarded anyone tried to speak to her and slammed the door to her office shut with a large bang that shook the building. 

< >Hermione fell into her desk chair and leaned back in it. She slowly opened the top drawer and pulled out a framed photograph. It made her want to cry. It was a picture of Draco and herself outside Hogwarts in their last days there as students, smiling at the camera happily. Colin Creevey, her best photographer on staff at the moment, had taken their picture then. 

< >She closed her eyes, but a single tear escaped, and slid down her cheek. 

< >About an hour after that, there was a knock on the office door, and Hermione's secretary peeked in nervously, unsure why her employer was either angry or upset - no one could tell. "You have a visitor, Ms. Granger." 

< >Hermione sighed and got to her feet, straightening her dress suit; she did not wear her wizard robes very often, because she spent a lot of time visiting her parents and friends in the Muggle world. "Thank you, Alona." She walked past her secretary and out into the hall. 

< >"Just another one - that's it! One more, _yes_," Colin Creevey said hurriedly, snapping his camera wildly around the man who obviously wish to see Hermione. "Could I trouble you for one more - thanks - " 

< >"How are you, Mr. Potter?" Hermione said, over Colin's head. He was still short. 

< >Colin stopped hitting the shutter of the camera when he heard the firmness in Hermione's voice. He glanced at Harry Potter. "I'd better get these developed," he muttered, walked away, but calling over his shoulder softly, "Thanks for you time." 

< >Harry smiled after Colin, then looked to Hermione. "He's still at it, I see . . ." 

< >Hermione glanced at him, saying nothing, and began walking back to her office, Harry following behind. "You shouldn't talk about Colin like that," she said, sitting at her desk. "He is one of my best photographers and I hate to see any of my employees _or_ friends shamed or humiliated in the eyes of anyone." She closed the office door with a wave of her wand as Harry sat down across from her. 

< >"I didn't know you cared so deeply about people." 

< >Hermione glared at him. "Why did you come?" she demanded. "I haven't seen you for months and I was never sure if I wanted to see you again - but now, I'm sure of it," she snapped. 

< >"Is this about the Weasleys?" 

< >"Of course it isn't, you fool," Hermione sneered. "I was just threatened yesterday by Arthur and all you can say is, 'Uh, is this about the Weasleys?' Where _is_ your common sense?" 

< >Harry stood up and removed a fold newspaper from the folds of his robes. He tossed it on Hermione's desk. She didn't have to even glance at it to know what it was. Her article. Front and center page. 

< >Hermione looked up scornfully at him. "Did you come to chide me?" she asked. 

< >"Of course not. Just to comment on it." 

< >"Oh, I'm _delighted_. Mr. Harry Potter himself - comes calling on my doorstep _just_ to comment on _my_ article!" Hermione exclaimed bitterly. "Say what you have to say, then leave." Her voice was malicious and biting as she glared at him. 

< >Harry smiled. "You met Draco again?" 

< >"'Met,' is a word. A mere one." 

< >"You had an encounter with him, then?" 

< >Hermione glared at him. "He ran into me, _twice_, then ran for dear life when he saw who it was, or if he even recognized me. I recognized him, of course. He disappeared after he left the Leaky Cauldron and no one's seen him since," she said coldly. "Is that what you want?" 

< >"Details, details." 

< >"There is one good thing about the press," Hermione said, smiling at him coyly, "I don't have to say what I don't want to say, and I can say what I want to say. This is not a time for the latter." 

< >Harry sat down with a sigh. "The Ministry is looking for Draco all over the country and in parts of Asia. We don't know where to look and we thought you might know where he might be." 

< >"You mean, _Arthur_ thought I would know _exactly_ where Draco was because - " 

< >"Precisely." Harry sighed. "Can you believe that they think they need a lawyer to help them get information out of you that you don't have?" He smiled at her innocently. "I am kidding, Hermione, believe me. I work for the Ministry - I don't live for them." 

< >Hermione stood up and Harry followed her. She extended a solemn hand and he shook it uncertainly. "You can be assured, Harry, that I have no idea where Draco might be. I suggested the United States, but that's only a theory." Harry smiled mildly. "But," Hermione added in a hard voice, "you might want to stick with private investigating instead of toiling with the Ministry, the bastards." 

< >Harry raised his eyebrows dubiously, but said nothing to challenge her opinion. "Good-bye, Hermione," he said, nodding at her. He turned and started toward the office door. 

< >"Good-bye, Harry - have a nice life," Hermione sneered, sitting back in her seat. 

< >Harry stopped just before he touched the doorknob. He turned slowly around. "What is the matter with you?" he demanded sharply. "Have you gone insane? I was supportive and - " 

< >"He _left_, Harry, that's what's wrong with me," Hermione snapped, jumping up, and pointing an accusing finger at him. "I didn't mind that so much, but the constant beatings of being accused as a home wrecker, an imbecile for falling in love 'with blood like his,' and so much more that _you will never_ go through!" She dropped her finger and gripped the edge of the desk with her hand, her knuckles turning white. "Leave, Harry. You may have been supportive, but you did nothing." 

< >"Hermione, the Weasleys - " 

< >"The Weasleys were the worst and you know it. People I had once considered family were enemies. Ginny and Ron - well, Ron was subtly clear he didn't care what I did in my private life and Ginny was apologetic, but not even _you_ said anything remotely comforting to me after he left. _Never_ - and still, not to this very day! You did not even try to stop the Weasleys from browbeating me with sarcastic comments and snide remarks, when you stood right beside me! 

< >"You leave my sight! You disgust me to the core. I once considered you my brother in arms, like I considered _them_ family, but now you all are filthy, pus-loving asses who care about no one except themselves! GET - OUT - OF - HERE!" Hermione shouted, pointing toward the door. 

< >Harry stared at her a moment too long and she threw his paper at him. "LEAVE!" He left, nearing running, but dignified enough not to. Hermione saw her secretary and a few reporters staring at her through the open door. She stormed to the door and slammed it shut, shaking the building in her wrath. 

~

< >A few days later, Draco and the children saw Pena and Olivia off to the train station, promising to not set the house on fire, and waving furiously as the train pulled away from the platform. 

< >Helena was waiting for the three in the kitchen when they got back home, giving Draco a dark look. He ignored her and bent to tickle Peter who squirmed and laughed, swinging around, trying to get Draco back. 

< >The two children finally went up for their naps around two and Helena left to tend to the sheep, who were going out a little late for feeding. Helena and a collie - the only other dog besides Anna on the farm - named Bruce hiked up into the hills far beyond the house and Draco was alone. 

< >He was restless, but just as tired, so he decided to take a bath. A long, warm bath. That was what he needed. He hated putting up with the suspicious, irritable, disapproving looks from Helena, and he needed to clear his head, but he wasn't going to raid Pena's cabinet of gin and wine, though she had told him to take whatever he liked, just not to get drunk. He promised and that was a promise he was going to keep. 

< >It was a wonder to him why he wanted to drink so much alcohol at the time. _I'm becoming a silent drunk_, Draco told himself mirthlessly. It was true, though, in his mind. A foolish, sad, young drunk with nothing to live for except conning people out of their money. 

< >Draco slipped into the warm water of the bathtub with a sigh, settling back and closing his eyes. He cupped his hands in the water and doused his hair with it. He was about to reach for the bar of soap when he heard the doorbell ring and stopped. 

< >There was a sharp rap after a moment or two of silence and Draco jumped out of the bathtub, nearly sliding into the bathroom door. He looked around frantically for a robe, but all there was in the room was a bath towel. Scowling and cursing angrily, he wrapped the towel around his waist and ran down the hall, shouted "Coming!" 

< >Draco stumbled down the stairs and flung open the door, breathing hard. "Yes?" he croaked, bowing his head down to breathe. 

< >The man standing in front of him with a younger one behind him made a noise of embarrassment. "I - I'm sorry. I could - I could come back and - " 

< >"No need," Draco said a bit sharply, looking up with his eyes. "Did you need something gentlemen, or may I return to my bath?" He glared in annoyance at the younger man who avoided his eyes. 

< >"I am Mr. Randall White, and this is Jeremy Brown. We are detectives and - " 

< >Draco stared at them in amazement, but said nothing. 

< >" - we were wondering if you had seen this man." Mr. White held out a still picture of a shrewd looking man in front of Draco's face. "He is a wanted man throughout Britain, Russia, many other parts of Asia, and even the States. He is possibly armed and very dangerous." 

< >Draco looked closely at the face that mirrored his own, when his hair wasn't wet and brown looking, and when his eyes were not the same color brown, as they now were, instead of his normal blue. He had spoken a soft charm while the man spoke to turn his eyes brown to trick the detectives. "No, I have not seen him." He looked up at the detective suspiciously. "Should I have? Is this man running around out _here_? There are children in this house, you know!" 

< >"No, no," the detective said quickly, pocketing the photo. "He was last spotted in London about five days ago, but there's no telling where he went - though, of _course_," he added quickly, "it is doubtful that this man is out in the country. He would probably try to blend in somewhere busy." He shrugged. "We're just checking wherever we can." 

< >"Hmm," Draco said, nodding, and rubbing his chin. "Say, how did you two get out here? No car?" 

< >Mr. White shifted his weight, which was quite a lot, actually. "No, er, we came out by train, and I told Mr. Simmons that we should take a walk." He smiled nervously. "He needs to lose weight." 

< >Draco forced himself to point out that 'Mr. Simmons' had previously been announced as 'Mr. Brown,' and it was quite clear to them all that Simmons/Brown didn't not need to lose weight. 

< >"Well, gentlemen, I should be letting you go, and get on saving the world." Draco smiled cheerily at them. "I apologize for sounding a bit grumpy. I had to run down from upstairs in this." He chuckled at himself and shrugged innocently. "Good luck catching that convict." 

< >"Thank you, sir, and for your time," Mr. White said, nodding. 

< >Draco smiled at him, said good-bye, and closed the door. He then slowly walked upstairs, back to his ruined bath, his hands shaking at the thought of coming so close to being caught. 

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/on2/harrypotter/images/draco.jpg



	4. Part 4

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

  
Sept. 2 -- 6 Knuts -- Draco Malfoy Still At Large   


[][1]

**ASSOCIATED WIZARD   
ANONYMOUS PRESS**

Ms. Hermione Granger of London, England, and editor of the syndicated _Daily Prophet_, reported in her exclusive article on Draco Malfoy, a criminal and murder suspect at large, that it "took this reporter herself to recognize him [Malfoy], when he ran into her."  
< >This has brought of some unwanted controversy, by the Ministry and Granger. There are rumors that Granger and Malfoy once shared an intimate relationship, during their last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
< > According to anonymous resources, their relationship broke after leaving Hogwarts, where upon Malfoy began his life of crime and Granger began as a quickly uprising, intelligent reporter for the _Prophet_.  
< >Granger and Malfoy have reportedly "not seen hide nor head of each other" since. That is, until six days ago.  
< >Representatives of the _Prophet_ and a spokeswitch, Virginia Lawrence, for Granger say "this is none of anyone's business. Yes, Ms. Granger admits to have had relations with Mr. Malfoy, but this is not a concern to anyone. What has past has past. Ms. Granger and Malfoy have long since parted and everyone, including Ms. Granger believe, very strongly, that there will not be any 'intimacy' or relations between the two."   
< >Lawrence continued to say, "You had best stay out of her business. She is involved with the Ministry in catching Mr. Malfoy and has said she will help them in any way she can, but she is in no way in contact with Mr. Malfoy and doesn't plan to be." < > No one else seems to be in contact with him, either. It seems Malfoy has disappeared off the ends of the earth after his encounter with Granger. Not many doubt why.

< >Hermione tore the paper to shreds. "Damn them!" she shouted. "For God sakes, I wish I knew who those idiots are! 'Associated Wizard Anonymous Press' my ass! Those idiots who couldn't care less about a person - " She threw down the rest of the newspaper onto her desk and it burst into flames in her rage. And the article had been absurd, poorly written, and downright insulting. If it had been turned into her, she would have ripped it up and written it over herself. 

< >"_PERCY_!" she yelled a moment later, slamming her fist down on the desk. Her voice rocked the building, but she was the only one who didn't notice. She kicked her chair away from her, but slowly pulled it back, and dropped into it. She put her face in her hands and wept fully for the first time in many years. 

< >There was a knock on the door and Colin walked in, looking slightly rigid. "Hermione?" he asked slowly, carefully. "I - I need to say something to you . . . yeah . . . er . . . what I wanted to say was - " 

< >"Oh, good Lord, Colin, just _spit it out_!" Hermione yelled, looking up at him. 

< >"I didn't say a word about it," Colin said automatically, "but you're probably right on who you think, Hermione . . . I remember exactly what happened to you and Draco, though, Hermione." Colin shook his head, his eyes looking at the ground, but he regained his courage and looked her straight in the eye. "That was love. I was there when he left, Hermione, don't you remember? We all were. Ron, Ginny, Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, _everyone_. 

< >"I saw it in his eyes that day, Hermione. Do you know what I'm talking about?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I saw in his eyes that it was the most horrible moment in his life. In _both_ your lives. His eyes said it all and you missed it, or you refuse to believe it - that a man, who speaks a lie, could not tell the truth with his eyes . . . 

< >"As he turned his back and walked away, I saw him shaking, Hermione," Colin told her gravely. "He knew that he had made the biggest mistake in his life right then and he felt a duty to leave, trying not to hurt you anymore . . . 

< >"You still love him. I don't know if he still loves you, but a man who runs away from the woman that he loves, shows the shame of love, in my opinion. If he was not in love still, he would not have run. He would have made a game out of it, like he has done before, but did he? No. Not at all. He ran from his greatest fear in the world, Hermione. _You_. Maybe the AWAP made it seem like he ran from you because they hate and loathe a person like you, but that is not the case." 

< >Colin sighed, shaking his head. He closed his eyes from a moment, then opened them again to look at Hermione. "I personally doubt he killed anyone, Hermione. And I know you value my opinion. Find your love. Find him. Protect him. You are the only one in this world who can." 

< >Hermione produced a weak smile. "I doubt you'll ever say anything like that to me again, Colin," she told him softly. 

< >Colin smiled at her. "Did I say something?" 

< >She laughed quietly. "But I thank you for that. I needed to be told that exactly." She closed her eyes to stop her tears. "I value your opinion greatly, and I agree with it, most of the time, and this is one of those times. Draco could not have killed a soul even accidentally. He is not that kind of person . . . but the person he seems now to be is . . . but I still love him. In my heart . . . and my soul . . . I cannot abandoned him." 

< >Colin stepped up to the desk and took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Go, then, Hermione," he said urgently. "He needs you more than he or you even know. Find him. Hide him - " 

< >"Protect him." 

< >"And love him." 

< >"But what if I cannot love what he may have become?" 

< >"You will have to trust your instincts and make that decision yourself. I cannot help you or give you advice in that matter, because I have never been in love, and I couldn't possibly comprehend that reality that reaches beyond my grasp," Colin replied, letting go of her hands. 

~

< >Draco dressed a while later in a dark blue bathrobe, smoothing his hair back as he walked downstairs. He found Helena in the kitchen, looking angry. Her eyes burned with an unseen fire when he walked into the room. 

< >"What did I do this time?" he sighed, leaning against the door frame. 

< >"It's what you _didn't_ do," Helena sneered, throwing the old newspaper she had been reading the day he met her onto the floor in front of him. 

< >Draco stared down at the front page, saying nothing. 

< >"Recognize him?" Helena demanded slanderously. 

< >Of course Draco did. It was himself. An enlarged picture of himself on the front of the newspaper. The picture was old, over a year, but he looked nearly the same. He lifted his head to look at Helena. 

< >"You murdering scum," Helena began to scream, advancing on him with a raised fist. "You lying, thief! I've known for days, but I wasn't sure until those brutes caught up with me as I walked the sheep in!" She uncurled her fist to slap him, but he caught her arm, whirled her around, pinning her arms behind her back, and clamped a hand over her ready-to-scream mouth. 

< >"If you bite me, I'll bite you back," Draco hissed into her ear, digging his nails into her wrists. "I'll let you go if you promise to answer every question I ask of you, do you understand me? You know of me, you know what I can do. You are not a fool. Will you answer my questions?" 

< >Helena nodded and he let her go. She spun around and stepped backwards until she had her back pressed against the kitchen sink. Her eyes held hate and suspicion as she looked on at the criminal in her kitchen. 

< >"Did you tell them?" Draco demanded, stepping toward her threateningly. "Did you tell them _anything_ about me? That you knew who I was and where I was? If you did, just kill me now, and get it over with! My dead body is worthless to them!" He threw up his hands helpless and paced, muttering to himself incoherently. 

< >Helena stared at him, but answered. "I did not say a word - but I almost did." 

< >Draco sighed and leaned against the kitchen wall. "Why didn't you?" 

< >"Because of what I saw," she replied hollowly. 

< >"What did you see?" Draco asked, confused. 

< >Helena narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm surprised you don't know. The _magic_." Draco paled and she smiled satisfactorily. "Yes, the magic, Draco _Malfoy_. I didn't tell them because of the trick." 

< >"It wasn't a trick. Magic is a craft. Many master it, but few see the joy it can fulfill in people. That is why I showed your brother and sister, because they would forget it when they were older, and they were delighted by it. Magic, to the normal humans, is only told in fairy tales, or shown off by a magician who only uses mere sleight of hand and stage tricks, but _real_ magic is beautiful. It is a gift . . . And you didn't tell them because I use magic?" Draco demanded sharply. 

< >Helena nodded solemnly. "They were not the police or guards. They were looking for _you_. Yes, many are looking for you, but these men were uncomfortable, and looked quite disturbed. They told me you had not seen the man and I wondered why they were such idiots. Unless, you had used some trick on them they hadn't noticed, and for Pete sakes! There it is! Your hair was darker - and still is, since it's wet - and your eyes! Brown!" She laughed, as if it was funny. 

< >Draco slowly move his hand in front of his eyes and when he lowered his hand, they were back to being blue. "Did the men leave?" In any other situation, he would have been smiling at Helena's expression, but this was not a time for games. 

< >"As far as I know," Helena said, trying hard not to stare at him. "_Why_?" 

< >Draco went to the kitchen window and peered out the linen curtains. "If they even thought I could possibly be me or if I knew something, they'll come back. They want to arrest and charge me with fraud, grand and petty theft, and murder." He looked away from the window. 

< >"So you _did_ murder someone." 

< >He was almost as quick as lightning. He appeared in front of her in the blink of an eye. "No," Draco said darkly and quietly. "I have never killed anyone in my life. I've come close to it, but that was when I was a jealous, spiteful kid." 

< >"Wonderful. Murderous at eleven," Helena sneered. 

< >Draco snorted disapprovingly and walked away from her. He threw up his hands in the air and turned around to look at her. "So, what now?" he demanded. "You going to turn me into the Muggle police? I doubt this town even has a magistrate!" 

< >Before she could answer, there was a sharp rap at the door. 

< >Draco paled and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were brown, and his hair slowly turned darker, as he wasn't concentrating completely. "They've come back for me," he moaned, slumping into a chair. "Give me a kitchen knife and I'll slit my wrists now. It's better than Azkaban!" 

< >Helena stared at him, then walked slowly, out of the kitchen to the front door. He couldn't move to protest or stop her. He couldn't even think. Draco put his head in his hands miserably, closing his eyes, expecting the worse. 

< >"Hello, again, miss," White's voice said pleasantly. "Is it your brother we spoke to earlier? You didn't seem to have much time to speak with us at the time. We hope we aren't bothering you . . ." 

< >_Yeah, right_, Draco muttered to himself. 

< >"Yes, Henry is my brother," Helena replied solemnly, surprising Draco so much he jumped and stared out the kitchen door, even though it was impossible to see her and the "detectives." 

< >"Henry, is it?" 

< >"Yes." 

< >"Might we speak with him?" 

< >"He is feeling a bit sick, but come in anyway," Helena said in a voice loud enough for Draco to hear clearly. "Follow me - he is in the kitchen, drinking tea." Draco, having enough sense, made a cup of tea appear in front of him. 

< >White, Brown/Simmons, and Helena walked into the kitchen a second later. 

< >"Detectives?" Draco asked blankly, looking up from his tea. 

< >"Nice to see you again, Mr. Andrews. You are not well?" White asked. 

< >Draco raised his eyebrows in fake amusement. "You could say that. If you had been here a minute longer earlier, you would not have been a happy or clean man, I can assure you, Detective White." 

< >White smiled idly. "Oh?" he asked aloofly, uninterested. "We came here to ask you a few questions, if that is all right." It wasn't a question and Draco knew it wasn't - _very_ clearly. These men would get what they wanted. 

< >Draco cleared his throat, giving a forced cough. "Of course." 

< >White sat across from him at the round, kitchen table. "It is about the man we spoke to you of earlier." 

< >"Oh? And what about him?" 

< >"His name is Draco Malfoy," Brown/Simmons said. 

< >"Newspapers are just as informative as you are, Detective," Draco said. 

< >White waved the remarks off. "We are worried that he might be in this area. We detected magic here . . ." 

< >Draco threw back his head and laughed. They assumed he was Muggle and they would wipe his mind later. "Detectives, _please_," he laughed. "Do not try your stupid tricks on me!" He held up the tea glass and it changed into a martini. 

< >The detectives stared and Helena tried not to. 

< >"Is that your answer? Draco Malfoy may be magic, but so am I, and I am the only magic in these parts, besides the two of you." He smiled and took a small sip of the martini. After he had done so, he turned the glass back into tea. "And don't even try to tell me you _detected_ magic!" 

< >"Have you seen the latest newspapers, Mr. Andrews?" Brown/Simmons asked slowly. 

< >Draco shook his head. "Not for at least a month, but Draco Malfoy has been in the papers for years, now, hasn't he? I tend to like quiet country life." He sighed. "Why should have I have seen them, Mr. Brown - or is it Simmons?" 

< >Brown/Simmons reddened. "It's Jeremy Pollack." 

< >"Reginold Whitney," said White. 

< >"Nice to meet you," Draco said curtly. He turned to Whitney. "You both need to work on it. It's pathetic how obvious you make yourselves. Now, what about the newspapers?" 

< >Whitney pulled at least three dozen wizard newspaper clippings out of his jacket, setting them on the kitchen table in front of Draco. "Take a look at these when you get the chance. We are sorry we bothered you." He rose to his feet, but his eyes landed on Draco's right hand. 

< >Draco didn't dare look, but he knew exactly what the detective was looking at. He stood up and coughed, using his right hand so the detective could see it even better. Why try to hide it? It had been spotted and it look more suspicious if he stuck his hand in his pocket. Whitney glanced at a staring Pollack, who looked sick. 

< >"No trouble," Draco said pleasantly, following Whitney and Pollack out onto the front porch who both looked extremely uncomfortable. "I will take a look at those papers when I get a chance. Thank you for them." 

< >"You _are_ welcome, Mr. _Andrews_," Whitney said, and he and Pollack left. 

< >Draco nearly slammed the door and leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. "I have to go!" he cried, his hair and eye color returning instantly in pure fright. He sprinted from the front door to the staircase. 

< >Helena grabbed his arm before he could get a hand on the banister, though. "Why?" she demanded, staring deep into his fleeting eyes that looked in every which direction all at once, never once stopping as she did. 

< >"Because they'll come back!" he cried, jerking away from her. He ran up the stairs, leaving Helena in his dust, and he threw all his clothes into the small suitcase he had purchased in the town. He had also taken all the rest of his money out of his Jennings account, since he had nothing better to do that morning. 

< >He scribbled a note to Olivia and Pena, dropped double the money asked for into an envelope, and left both the note and envelope on Pena's bed for her when she got back. Draco ran back down the stairs, tripping as he tried to pull on his shoes. 

< >Helena stood in the same spot he had left her in and he ran past her. He grabbed the newspaper articles, tucking them under his arm, and grabbed a bit of food and water that he would need, and a box of matches, then ran out of the kitchen. 

< >Draco, about to run out the door, stopped, and looked her directly in the eye. "Helena, for God sakes, when the Ministry comes, claim you don't remember having a conversation with me at all. Your memory is wiped all the way up to just before you talked to those two idiots, but don't tell him that, just _don't_ act like you had a second conversation with those idiots! 

< >"If you don't, they _will_ wipe your memory. They have no right to, but they will. Believe me. I've seen it. Don't do it. Don't let on you remember Whitney and Pollack; greet them with confusion. Please, for the sake of yourself and your brother and sister." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Give them my love. I hope your mother is all right." 

< >With that, Draco swooped out of the house, and was running across the field until he disappeared down a hill, bound toward the woods. He was gone from the lives of the Andrews family, leaving the only people he'd ever loved. He missed Mikaela's giggles and Peter's laugh. But they were distant memories by the time he reached the ridge of the forest and he knew he couldn't dwell on memories for long. 

~

< >Hermione went home right after Colin left and gathered a few of her things, then jumped on her broom, and rode quickly back to her office to gather a few personal items she'd been careless to leave. 

< >"Hermione!" someone yelled, running up to her, trying to thrust papers into her hands as she hurried down to her office. 

< >"Not now!" she snapped angrily, brushing past the man. 

< >"But - but - but - _Ms. Granger_! The fugitive - " the news researcher, Allan Greenspan, sputtered, "Draco Malfoy - he's been _found_! Mr. - Mr. Weasley just informed the press!" 

< >Hermione spun around and stared at him. 

< >"At - at least the Ministry _knows_ where he is. He was disguised, but the 'detectives,' as they called themselves while looking, spotted a particular ring on Malfoy's hand - the _ruby_ ring! They had to leave to get back up, but they are heading back there this instant to arrest and charge him!" Greenspan ended his hurried speech and handed Hermione an address on a slip of paper. "Mr. Weasley told me to give this to you, Ms. Granger, and - " 

< >Hermione looked at it for a second, then ran to her office, grabbed her things, then rushed out of the building. She yelled over her shoulder to Greenspan and to anyone who was listening, "I'm going on vacation, but tell Colin to get his ass over there! I know you have that address written down _somewhere_, Greenspan, so get him over there, damn it! _Right now_!" 

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/on2/harrypotter/images/draco3.jpg



	5. Part 5

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

< >Draco did not know why he had taken to running to the forest. He could have just easily Apparated to the trees and have been gone in the blink of an eye, but the heat of the moment caught up with him and something in him wanted to leave an impression on Helena to be quiet, kept him from using magic until he reached the forest where he turned himself invisible, a trick most did not know. 

< >Of course, the Ministry could not track magic - yet, anyway. They had been lying, pressing for some answers, when they had said up in the house they had track magic. That was what Draco had found so uproarious about the whole conversation, and would still have been laughing back at the house, if Whitney hadn't seen the ring, of course. 

< >Draco finger the ring as he hurried along the through the woods. It was a silver ring with an oval, sharply cut ruby encrusted in the top of it. The ring was almost as notorious as Draco was, but he never took it off, even though it gave people a clear recognition as to who he was. The sharp edges of the ring's jewel had kept him from being arrested in the Muggle and the wizard world; he would resort to physical defense instead of magic most of the time to protect himself, and the ring left nasty cuts and scars in many who dared toil with him. 

< >Many thought the ring was a symbol of evil, besides just a savage way of defense. Or, the ring symbolized his greatness in the world of brigands and baneful doers and followers. Draco never told anyone anything about the ring, not even in the nasty letters he wrote to the press every once and a while, or to anyone he dealt with. 

< >He decided not to Apparate anywhere. What was the point? It was a waste of energy and he had no idea where to go, except to . . . Venice, of course, but not. He didn't want to go to Venice. He didn't know why; he just didn't feel like wanting to go there, so he didn't. 

< >Draco broke suddenly into a run, feeling as if he had to run, as if someone was after him. The brush and trees seemed to get closer and closer together as he went deeper into the huge forest. He finally stopped, dropped his invisibility and shook his head at himself, in a silent curse. He was running from nothing and he knew it. 

< >With a sigh, Draco muttered a few words, and disappeared from human sight, unbeknownst that a huddled figure had been hiding in a bush, not five feet away from him before he disappeared. 

~

< >Hermione arrived at the house first, by Apparation. The Ministry would go by Apparation, as well, but they would stay back a few minutes, so they could calculate and plan, because they were idiots, but also not fools. If Draco was still there, he would use his defenses in any way to escape the clutches of Ministry officials. 

< >The house was old, obviously, with a thatch roof, though it was obvious the thatch had been added to make it look more old and desolate, and the rest of the house was like that of a farm house. 

< >She walked slowly up the steps and knocked on the door. A girl answered. 

< >"May I help you?" she asked, smiling in greeting. 

< >"I _demand_ to see Draco Malfoy!" Hermione shouted to her blatantly, breathing hard. Apparation took a lot out of you if you were stressed. 

< >The girl blinked with a little surprise as she stared at Hermione. "Draco? His last name is Jennings, not Malfoy . . . Do I know you?" she asked blankly, cocking her head slightly to squint at Hermione. 

< >"_Is_?" Hermione demanded sharply. "He hasn't left yet?" 

< >The girl stepped back defensively. "I think he must have fallen asleep upstairs. Why would he leave? If he isn't sleeping, he must still be in the bath . . . Do I know you?" she repeated. 

< >"Ms. _Granger_?" 

< >Hermione whirled around and came face to face with Percy Weasley. There were a few men and a woman behind him on the steps, looking around suspiciously. She saw a few more people on the hills around the house, looking out into the distance. 

< >"What _are_ you doing here?" he asked in a hollow, but cold tone. 

< >"Do I know you?" the girl demanded more sharply, getting annoyed. "Who _are_ you people?" 

< >Hermione turned around to her, eyes cold, but said pleasantly, "We are looking for your _friend_, Draco - " 

< >"_Boarder._ He is staying with my family for about a month. What is this about?" 

< >"_Fine_ - boarder. We are looking for him, to answer a few questions for us. You say he is still in the house?" Hermione demanded harshly of the girl, looking at her in irritated anticipation. 

< >"Yes, he is," the girl said slowly. She looked past Hermione to Percy. "He was still in the bath when I came back into the house after talking to those guys out in the fields . . . if he isn't there, he's probably asleep or something." 

< >One of the men and the woman pushed past Hermione and the girl, and ran up the stairs, each one going down one hallway, one right, one left. 

< >The girl stared after them for a moment, then back to Hermione. "Is he in trouble?" she asked innocently. "What did he do? He's only been staying with us for about five or six days." 

< >Percy stepped up beside Hermione, looking intently at the girl. "You say, girl, that you only remember talking to the detectives here _once_?" he asked the girl. "_Only_ once?" 

< >"My _name_ is Helena Andrews and _yes_, only once, right?" Helena looked at the detectives who must have nodded, because she looked satisfied, but when she looked back at Hermione and Percy, her eyes were suspicious. "Who are you people?" 

< >"The law, Miss Andrews," Percy replied promptly, holding himself up to look dignified. "We are looking for Mr. _Jennings_. Did you know his real name was Malfoy, Miss Andrews?" 

< >Helena looked at him blankly, confused. "No, but what does that have to do with anything? And why are you looking for him? He's upstairs; I could have gotten him for you if you wanted to talk with him. Isn't it illegal for you people to barge into my mother's house?" she demanded. 

< >The two who had disappeared upstairs returned to the landing, shaking their heads. They shrugged. 

< >Hermione looked Helena deep in the eyes. Her eyes were angry with confusion, but said nothing else, except . . . 

< >Percy muttered to Hermione, "He wiped her memory already, Hermione. He's gone. Long gone." He stepped inside the door and motioned for the two on the landing to come back down. "Miss Andrews, could I speak with you privately for a moment?" He started to reach toward her. 

< >"Let _me_ do that, Percy," Hermione snapped idly, pushing him lightly out of reach from Helena. She glared at him. "I am just as qualified; I worked under you for a time, you know," she hissed, "and I will not say a word to her, all right? I just don't want your filthy claws on her. And I'll talk to you later about _The Magic Times. _" 

< >Percy paled, but a faint smile brushed across his lips. Hermione glared at him angrily, then took Helena's arm, and led her into a room, a living room of sorts, closing the door securely behind them, so Percy couldn't listen in. 

< >Helena sat down on the couch, folding her arms, ready for an explanation. Hermione sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, just as determined for answers. 

< >"So," Hermione began, "where is Draco?" 

< >"Upstairs, isn't he?" 

< >Hermione shook her head in dismay and sighed. She threw up her hands angrily. "Oh, for God sakes, Helena, just tell me where he went! Draco Malfoy is a dangerous man and - " 

< >"/i>Dangerous?" Helena asked skeptically, rolling her eyes dubiously. 

< >Hermione leaned forward and glared into Helena's eyes. "Don't mess with me, girl. You'd be a fool if you screwed with me anymore than you are. I can see Draco didn't even touch your memory. He warned you not to breathe a word, didn't he?" She shook her head again. "He told you that the Ministry would wipe your memory, if you did tell them anything, right?" 

< >"That's what you _are_ going to do, though, right?" Helena snapped bitingly at Hermione, dropping everything that protected her from getting her memory wiped. "And you think you have the right to do that! How _dare_ you! _You're_ insane! _All_ of you! You have _no right_ to wipe another human being's memory! And you probably all think you're more humane that _us_" 

< >"I won't do that, but that red-headed man outside the door _will_," Hermione said darkly. "I am trying to find Draco to protect him." Her eyes watered slightly and she looked up at the wall, past Helena. "I don't know why, but I need to find him! He . . . oh, for Pete's sake, damn it! I - DON'T - KNOW - WHY! That idiot has cursed me, probably!" 

< >Helena stared at her, but then her face turned into a suspicious, menacing sneer. "Don't tell me . . . _you're_ the love of his life that he lost?" she scoffed rather snidely, looking extremely doubtful. 

< >"Did - did he say that?" 

< >Helena said nothing. 

< >Hermione grabbed Helena's hands and held them in hers, looking at the young girl urgently. "Draco is in danger of being murdered by my own government, if they catch him, though they won't call it _murder_, of course. 

< >"Even if he goes to trial and gets dropped of his crimes of theft, conning, and more, Helena, he will _not_ be able to shake the rumors that he killed men, women, and children. The Ministry will make _sure_ of that and he will be put to death, just to please my society - and yours - and to set their minds straight. Don't you understand, Helena? You are securing his death if you do not tell me where he went!" 

< >"I don't know where he went!" Helena cried, shaking suddenly. "He - he ran toward the forest, then disappeared into it! He's gone! I don't know where! I'm telling the truth! I don't know!" She burst into tears. "Are they going to hurt my little sister and brother? Draco showed them a bit magic, but they won't remember in a few years, and - !" 

< >Hermione hugged her awkwardly. "No, no, of course not, Helena, trust me. I won't let them." She pulled away and looked Helena directly in the eye. "When I leave here, do not follow me. The men and women will be gone and it will only be Percy and I - for only a minute. You are supposed to be under a sort of spell for a few minutes, so about five minutes after I leave, go to the kitchen, and do _something_. Someone will be watching for a while, to see that you don't remember a thing, or if Draco comes back, so be calm. And don't speak to _anyone_ about this matter! Understand?" 

< >Helena nodded numbly. "Yes," she whispered. 

< >Hermione smiled at her, rubbed her eyes, rose to her feet, and left the room. 

< >"He's long gone, Percy," Hermione said as they hurried along from the house; Colin, who had arrived late, nearly having to run beside Hermione. "That girl knew nothing of why we were there or anything, and now she doesn't remember _anything_." 

< >"Good," was all Percy said. 

< >"_Good_," Hermione mimicked. "Now, about _that_ article - " 

< >"_Oh_? Did it offend you, your highness? Does the truth offend you?" Percy demanded, stopping, and glaring at her. "The Ministry _hates_ the truth, but I would think that _you_, of all people, would _love_ the truth. You _are_ the press, aren't you? And wouldn't the public love it if they knew that you actually once loved a mad man! They think you went on just a couple of _dates_, off and on, but I know what you hate me to know from Ginny and Ron told me in innocence, years ago. You _loved_ Draco Malfoy and that will be the end of you." 

< >"My end is far from near, Percy," Hermione growled menacingly. 

< >Percy laughed. 

< >Hermione slapped him across the face as hard as she could. "Bastard. He rehearsed that whole spiel." She and Colin then walked past him, Colin trying hard not to laugh until Percy had disappeared to go back to the Ministry office. 

< >"Colin, go back to the office. There's nothing here," Hermione told him as she stopped to get positioned onto her broom that she had brought with her to the house. She looked him directly in the eye. "I'm going after him, Colin." 

< >"Good luck," Colin said solemnly, disappearing. 

< >Hermione launched herself off the ground and into the Muggle sky, bound toward the north, hoping her intuitions were right, or help her. 

~

< >Draco walked through the forest for days on end, it seemed, though it was only about four all together. He never stopped, except to eat a ration or two, and to rest. He felt ill; his stomach growled for food and drink, and he had dark circles under his eyes. 

< >He knew very well that at that exact moment, he could be reclining in a Venice cafe, watching the tourists go by, or that he could be on a beach in America, bathing in the sun, if he was so whimmed, of course. He wasn't. Something in him told him not to. 

< >His quiet pursuer thought this quite odd, indeed. The man had magical powers, that was to be sure - he used them to light fires at night and keep himself invisible at dawn till dusk, in case of hermits or campers spotters spotting him, but he never did anything else with his powers. 

< >Of course, it was easy to follow the man, after that. He left behind careless footprints in the mud and the crunching of leaves and twigs he stepped in were almost louder than a gunshot to the pursuer's sharp ears. 

< >The man looked lonely and angry - and also pitiful in the pursuer's eyes when he was able to see his face during the evening hours of the day, and sometimes even late into the night. The man fingered the ring on his finger many times in the hours after dusk, under the red glow of the firelight, looking lost as he did so. The ruby would sparkle in the light, looking like a laser wherever it hastened to shine. 

< >On the fourth night, the man sat with his back against a tree, staring directly into the fire. The pursuer sat in a dark shadow, across from him, watching him attentively. The man was still and the only movement he made was an occasional, slow blinking of his eyes. 

< >The man, after a while, spoke. "Lead kindly light," he rasped, "amid the encircling gloom . . . Lead thou me on . . . ; the night is dark, and I am far from home. Lead thou me on. Keep my feet . . . ; I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough . . . for me." He snapped his head up and looked past the fire, to the pursuer, or at least in the place where he thought the thing would be, watching him . . . "Show yourself, or be gone!" he shouted with all of the strength he could muster. "Why do you torment me?" 

< >The pursuer did not answer and the man slumped back against the trunk of the old tree, tears running down his cheeks. "Kill me now and I shall rest in peace!" he yelled. "I would rather be killed now by my own hand, but if I must be murdered by someone besides myself, I'd rather have it done here and now! Where I cannot be tortured anymore by the agony of society and their inherit greed!" 

< >Again, the pursuer was silent as he looked at the man. The man was miserable and frightened looking, but had brought all the courage he could muster to the floor. However, he lost it in seconds, when the pursuer did not show himself to the man. The man thought himself mad now, even more miserable, and slowly fell asleep to the crackling of the dying fire and his own tears of angst. 

< >The man had mental stamina, the thing knew, and a high sense dignity - and much of it, that can be assured - not to be killed without knowing it, wanting to see his killer's face before he died a death of dignity, without the shameful tears he had just shed . . . 

~

< >Hermione saw nothing as she crossed over the forest during the days. Draco wasn't stupid enough to light a fire, was he? she always wondered, but decided against looking for him at night. She would have to stay in the air until morning, for she would not be able to see much farther than five feet in front of her, and would have to sleep during the day, having the chance of losing Draco, if he had not already lost _her_. 

< >She once saw a burned out fire pit, but no one was around, and the coals were cool from the morning air, so there was no telling when it had last been used. That morning, the night before, the week before, the _month_ before? There was no telling. 

< >Time and time again as she rode along, Hermione told herself this was stupid. She had left her job - to find nothing? She might as well go home and save herself the trouble, but . . . what if she _did_ find Draco? 

< >One night, she cried herself to sleep, thinking about Draco's ring. He still bore it. It was amazing to Hermione that he still did. Locked in a small box, under a floorboard in her small house was an identical ring, except that it had a gold band instead of a silver one. No one knew about the rings, not even Ron, Colin, Harry, Ginny, Crabbe, Goyle, or _anyone_. 

< >_Draco_, she thought to herself, _why? Why wear the ring anymore? What does it symbolize? Nothing! _She had to stop herself and ask why she cared so much. Was there actual hope that . . .? No, that was impossible, but she wanted to help Draco, no matter what he had become . . . 

< >Hermione wiped away her tears and gathered her courage. Don't cry, it's pointless, she told herself sternly, shaking her head. _What use are tears to us, except to wash out dirt and eyelashes? They don't help pain one single damn bit._

~

< >Draco told himself he was going mad - but did an insane person _know_ he or she was insane? He didn't know. Sane people knew they were sane, so why couldn't an insane assailant know he was insane? For the same reason, he told himself, that how could a sane person know they were sane? It was mind boggling and torturing as he slowly fell asleep, miserable, hungry, exhausted, and awaiting a certain death, whatever it be. 

< >He doubted he could do much more magic to protect himself, unless he somehow gathered his strength - and you need to have enough energy and vigor to concentrate on magic itself, or perish in its undying wake. 

< >Draco told himself to sober up so he could defeat the Dark Thing that he knew followed him, but was he just imagining it all? The Dark Thing - a figment of his hysterical imagination? _Maybe . . . maybe not . . ._

~

< >The Dark Thing watched the man fall asleep, then crawled toward the dying fire for a bit of warmth before he would have to disappear back into the forest at dawn, before the man woke, ate, and continued on his slow, going-nowhere trek across the endless forest. 

< >It smiled to itself in self-satisfaction as its body warmed. It wanted to howl in laughter, for some odd reason, but collected itself. The young man's life was at stake and there was no time to do anything except watch over the man until he could do nothing for himself anymore . . . and what then? The Dark Thing wasn't sure, but it felt a pang of fear in its chest. Death? By starvation? Provoked insanity? Both? 

~

< >Draco woke at dawn and stumbled to his feet. He knew there was a stream nearby and lurched toward it through the trees, carrying his only suitcase, and laying it open on a rock. He stripped off his dirty clothes that he had been in since he left the Andrews' and dunked them in the rushing water. 

< >He scrubbed at the clothes with a bar of soap and a coarse brush that he had taken with him. When they were clean, he laid them out to dry, and dived into the river, wearing only his underwear. He scrubbed at his hair and body, cleaning off the dirt and grime, and pulling out the burrs and needles lodged in his hair. 

< >Finally, when the painful deed was done and his whole body red, but clean, from the excursion of the horrible brush, Draco emerged from the water, and dressed in dry clothes. He gnawed on a small, hard biscuit, had a bit of water that he had collected from the cold river, and trudged on through the forest, not evening bothering to conceal himself anymore. 

< >_What was the point_? he asked himself bitterly. There _was_ no point. If anyone of his society or the Muggle one was after him, they wouldn't be looking for him there. He was alone with the Dark Thing, or not, and that was frightening enough for him. 


	6. Part 6

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

< >"WHERE IS SHE?" Percy Weasley shouted in Colin Creevey's face. 

< >Harry Potter was standing right behind Percy, but said nothing. 

< >"I DON'T KNOW!" Colin yelled back. "_SHE LEFT_!" 

< >The whole floor had come out of their offices and cubicles to stare at the screaming match between small Colin and tall Percy. No one could tell who was winning - _yet_. 

< >"LIAR!" Percy shrieked, sticking a long, bony finger in Colin's face. 

< >Colin had an impulse to bite him, but did nothing of the sort. He narrowed his eyes at Percy and smacked the finger away with a light wave of his hand. "Can you prove that, Mr. Weasley?" he asked quietly. "I can assure you that I am not a liar when I tell you that I do not know where she is. We parted after your _departure_. I believe, however, she went on a much needed vacation, but that's just an opinion." Colin smiled sickly sweetly at Percy, looking innocent, yet deadly at the same time. "Can you accuse me of lying for voicing my opinion?" 

< >Percy was beat red. "TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!" he roared. 

< >"He doesn't know where she is, Percy, damn you," Harry hissed angrily. 

< >Percy swung around to face Harry who had been standing behind him. "He can talk for himself!" he yelled at the younger man, furious. He was nearly shaking with rage; his hands in tight balls at his side. 

< >"And so he did!" Harry snapped. "You called him a liar!" 

< >"Are you accusing me - " 

< >"He's not accusing you! You said it yourself!" Colin shouted, stamping his foot on the ground impatiently. "I have no idea where Ms. Granger is and no one else does either! She left! All right? DO YOU _UNDERSTAND_!" It was obviously not a question - in _anyone's_ mind. 

< >"Quite," Harry said darkly, glaring at Percy. He stormed out of the office, Percy following slowly behind, muttering, "Damn her, damn her, damn her," as he left, head bowed in angry thought. 

< >Colin turned around to face the others, staring after the two men. They all looked slowly to Colin in amazement who snapped, "Get back to work. Hermione left us _all_ in charge and she wouldn't want us to stop the presses over an idiot red-head, got that, people?" He took a glaring glance around, then stormed away, many people staring after him in shock. 

~

< >Draco felt aches in his arms and legs and back as he walked and pushed through the forest. It was cold and the clouds that he could just barely see past the treetops threatened rain. He knew he didn't have enough strength to get out of the forest, much less light the night's fire. Of course, he had matches, so . . . 

< >He rested twice during the long hours of walking, for a sip of his limited water supply, and kept going and going and going, feeling as if he had been walking for many, many days, and many, many miles. He didn't stop walking, however, until the skies darkened with promising rain and nightfall, in a small grove, surrounded by thick trees and shrubs and a few boulders, concealing him. 

< >The Dark Thing kept close behind him and by dusk, he was sure he wasn't crazy - at least, crazy enough to imagine something following him. He knew he was being watched, pursued, even chased, if you could put it that way, but by what? He could hardly be sure. Man? Beast? What? 

< >Of course, the Dark Thing knew what it was, and it knew by the way the man acted, looking behind him every few minutes until he stopped for the night in a small clearing, that the man wondered what it was. He, the man, was now sure he was being followed, but the Dark Thing he knew not what. 

< >The man collapsed in front of a pathetic excuse for a pile of firewood with a dreadful groan. He was obviously sick, famished, dehydrated, and fatigued, the thing thought to himself without the slightest bit of mirth. 

< >Finally, the man fell asleep in front of a small fire, having not eaten a thing, and the Dark Thing emerged from its hiding place behind a thorny bush, sure enough that he would have to help the man if the man wanted to survive. 

< >The Dark Thing took the shawl from around its own shoulders and laid it over the sleeping man, then went to collect more twigs and bark for the fire. Its simple mission was to help the man, against his wishes, though. 

< >When the fire was lit to a full roar of flickering embers and snapping twigs, the Dark Thing kneeled in front of it, looking hard into the flame, as if it was willing the fire to jump at him, or do something else besides burn. It didn't and it sighed, standing to its full height. 

< >As the fire warmed him more, the man stirred, and awoke, looking drowsily around, dazed. His eyes widened with fearful surprise when he saw the figure, standing above him, in front of the fire. The man could not see the figure's face, for the light of the fire was to its back, and a shadow covering his front. 

< >"'Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,'" the figure recited in a loud, obscuring voice. "'Lead thou me on; the night is dark, and I am far from home. Lead thou me on. Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me.'" 

< >"Is this the first step," the man whispered hoarsely, "to my death?" 

< >"To your life, Draco, to your life." 

~

< >Hermione left the forest and headed back home, six days gone. She dragged herself through her small house to her bed when she arrived home at sometime after midnight - she wasn't quite sure the time - collapsing onto her bed in a heap. 

< >Hermione showed up to work a little late, looking slightly disheveled, but very dignified. Colin barely had to even glance at her to know that she had been unsuccessful in her search. 

< >"Welcome back," he muttered hollowly to her as she walked past him. "Have a good vacation?" he asked dryly after her, indignant for getting nothing in response, or, at least, a simple thank you. 

< >Hermione turned around slightly and sent him a dark look of contempt. 

< >Colin held up his hands defensively and taking a step back. There was a definite air of cynicism around him as he snarled in a bitter tone, "Fine, Hermione," stalking off to sulk. 

< >Hermione turned on her heel, stormed to her office, and slammed the door. 

~

< >"Take this," rasped the figure, handing Draco a steaming mug. 

< >The figure was a man, a few inches taller than that of Draco, though from the ground, Draco thought he could have been a giant. The man's eyes were dark, the color of wet mud, like his hair, which was cut strangely and raggedly around his ears and neck. His mouth curved slightly even as he spoke or not, as if a sneer was about to pop out at any second. His nose was slender and slightly long, as if his had been somehow stretched. 

< >"What is it?" Draco asked the man suspiciously, with as much strength and dignity as he could summon. The man had been bent over the large fire for a few minutes, making a concoction of some sorts - which Draco held a cup of in his hands - with his own, surprising large food supply. 

< >The man looked at him sternly without reply, like a strict professor looking at a rambunctious student. 

< >Draco obediently took a sip of the hot liquid - at this point, he didn't care if he died, but his mind was hysterical, and he was just conscious enough to know it. As the liquid went down his esophagus, he felt a hot, burning sensation down his trachea and back. He did his best to ignore it while it passed, then looked objectively up at the man who sat down a few feet from Draco with his own cup. "Hot chocolate," he managed whispered hoarsely. 

< >The man nodded. "The very best." 

< >There was silence for a few minutes. 

< >"_Why_?" Draco demanded quietly, too weak to speak loudly. 

< >"Why _what_?" the man asked carefully, sipping the warming liquid from his mug. He looked directly into the fire, away from Draco's suspicious, dark, but also confused eyes. 

< >"Don't patronize me, _sir_," Draco snapped fiercely but painfully. He clutched his heaving, pained chest, withdrawing farther into the shawl wrapped around his shoulders, and managing to croak, "You know what I mean." 

< >"Yes," the man agreed solemnly, taking another sip. 

< >Draco said nothing more to the man, staring down into his mug, seeing a distorted image of himself in the brown water. 

< >"It amazes me," the man said, after a few minutes of complete silence, "that a man of your _status_ and _stature_ would be here - in the forest!" He chuckled softly to himself, as if it was all a big farce. 

< >"With a rabid beast at my heels?" Draco demanded. 

< >The man laughed loudly, throwing his head back with mirth, laughing at the trees who shook in the breeze, mocking Draco into shame and anger. "I assure you, I am _not_ a rabid beast, Draco," he said, sobering. 

< >Draco stared at him. The man merely glanced at him over the rim of his mug, then averted his eyes back to the large fire. He sighed after a moment, realizing that Draco was speechless. "Your name, Mr. Malfoy, is known the world around. You shouldn't be surprised that _I_ know it." He looked at Draco. "Or do you define recluses as savages who don't read the papers?" the man demanded sharply, catching Draco off guard. 

< >Again, Draco stared at him. "Is that why you have been following me?" he asked. 

< >"Partly," the man replied. 

< >"What is '_partly_' supposed to mean?" Draco demanded. 

< >"Partly," said the man simply, shrugging his shoulders with a mischievous smile. 

< >Draco fumed in silence and the man rose to his feet. He drank the last bit of his drink, then regarded Draco with a slight, fleeting smile of dark amusement. He threw the unwashed, plastic mug into a small bag. "Get some sleep, kid," he told Draco in an almost mothering, but stern voice. 

< >"I'm _not_ a kid." 

< >"Then stop acting like one and get some sleep anyway," snapped the man, disappearing quickly into the forest, seemingly morphing into the shadows, as if he had almost become one with them. 

< >Draco stared after the man. He _did_ feel like a kid. A lost, confused, angry kid. What he often felt like when he had been younger. He also felt like an idiot and a complete, ignoramus fool. 

< >The man had been waiting for him to weaken into humility and distress. It was embarrassing, having to be helped and nursed by a stranger who, in a strange, silent way, refused to give his name to Draco, or why he was really there. Draco knew the man thrived on it like a normal creature of the earth thrived on water and food. 

< >That single fact sent shivers up his spine. _The man could - no, _must _be an assassin_, Draco thought to himself. Waiting for just the right time, knowing Draco wanted to see his murderer. 

< >Draco didn't know what he had been thinking when he had told himself that. He wasn't sure anymore that he would want that . . . would he rather be stabbed in the back, not seeing his murderer, instead of in the chest where he could look into the spiteful, venomous eyes of his killer until he died . . .? 

~

< >Draco woke himself up by throwing up. The man had turned him on his side to keep his from choking to death. Draco felt like he was vomiting up his heart and lungs. His throat burned and his stomach wretched and knotted within him. 

< >"You drank the river water," the man said knowingly as he cleaned off Draco's face with a thin, white handkerchief. He still kept Draco positioned on his side in case he began spewing again. 

< >"_Yeah - so what_?" Draco sneered, coughing. 

< >The man chuckled quietly and patted Draco's back gently and reassuringly as Draco begin vomiting and hacking horribly again. "This is what you get," he said softly, shaking his head a bit. 

< >Draco snorted, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. "Who _are_ you?" he demanded angrily. He cut himself off by hacking out more vomit that clogged his throat. He then spat on the ground in disgust of himself. 

< >The man was suddenly silent and wouldn't look a Draco for a minute or two. Finally, he replied very dismissively, and looking at Draco very sharply, "Never mind that. Just keep throwing up until you're through, Draco." 

< >Draco moaned painfully as his stomach twisted and knotted. "If you won't answer me that, will you answer another, different question?" he asked the man softly, his eyes slightly wet with pain. 

< >There was a hesitation, then . . . "Yes, you may." 

< >"_Why_?" Draco demanded hoarsely, looking up at the strange man. "_Why_ are you here? _Why_ did you follow me? _Why_ are you helping me - someone who would have had you condemned many years ago, along with his father?" 

~

< >Hermione sighed as she wrote an article on Draco, again, which mainly said no one had seen him since the farm house incident, griping about how the one of the Ministry workers should have stayed watch, while the other went for help. 

< >Of course, Hermione would slap a name that didn't exist in her office on the article when it went to print. She didn't want to be criticized anymore for even _writing_ something about him. She was fed up. _Literally_ fed up. 

< >She was fed up with _all_ of it to the point she went out in the hall of her office, with a pile of papers, dumped them on the floor, and set them on fire. Her employees were mixed with feelings and said nothing as the flames burned out and the ashes disintegrated before their very eyes, and Hermione returned to her office, slamming the door behind herself. 

< >Hermione had been disappointed to come home to more newspapers accusing her of knowing Draco's location, having affairs with him, covering up for him, making a set up or lying about running into him in Diagon Alley, and so on, and so on. 

< >Finally, she finished the article, and sent it up to typesetting. Hermione the dropped her head on the desk miserably. She was tired, still, having only gotten the lesser of five or so hours of sleep, and way too much coffee. She also had a raging headache that refused to go away, no matter how many potions or Muggle Advil she took. 

< >The door to the room suddenly burst open and in stormed Arthur _and_ Percy Weasley, each looking deathly malicious and horribly snide. Hermione barely lifted her eyes to look at them. 

< >"We know you went after him!" Arthur roared at her, point his wand accusingly at her. "Tell us where he is, Ms. Granger, or you _will_ face the consequences! Believe me, you will!" 

< >Hermione snorted and put her head back into her arms. "I was on vacation, Mr. Weasley," she murmured sleepily. She glanced at the two, red faced men with an exasperated sigh. "I do not know where Draco Malfoy is, nor do I care to know at this point in time." 

< >"LIAR!" Arthur shrieked. 

< >"Is that my name now?" Hermione asked sarcastically. 

< >"Tell us where he is!" Percy shouted. 

< >Hermione jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at both the men. "I cannot tell you because I DO NOT KNOW!" she yelled spitefully. "And even if I did, I would _NEVER_ tell _you_! NEVER!" She took a deep breath and lowered her finger. "Get out of here, both of you. You now do not have a right to come into this building without permission from _me_, do you understand that? I don't care what power you may think you have over me, because there is absolutely _none_, I can assure you both. Now get out before I get you out _myself_!" 

< >Arthur and Percy left quickly, knowing Hermione's rare threats were usually real and she would hold to that until she was finished and beyond even that, if she felt desired to do so. She was the one of the most powerful witches of her generation and _everyone_ knew that. 

~

< >"So, you figured out who I am, now, have you, Draco?" the man asked softly. 

< >"_Professor Lupin_?" Draco demanded sharply, trying to sit up. 

< >Lupin wouldn't let him and he didn't try to resist, feeling ill. "How many Professor Remus Lupins have you met in your life, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, smiling gently, but cautiously, trying not to provoke him. 

< >"My father _and_ myself would have condemned you a few years back, given half the chance," Draco replied bluntly. 

< >Lupin laughed calmly. "As you said, Mr. Malfoy, that was many years ago. My grudges against most people do not last long. As for why I am here and why I followed you, I'll tell you straight. I _live_ in this forest during the full moon. You're lucky you came when you did. If you had come two and a half weeks sooner or a while later, I would have probably eaten you." He chuckled. "I followed you, well, because I knew who you were." 

< >"_Were_?" Draco asked dryly. 

< >"_Are_," Lupin corrected himself. 

< >"Are you going to turn me in?" 

< >"That all depends," Lupin replied, sounding slightly wistful. 

< >"All depends on _what_?" Draco asked. 

< >Lupin smiled at him. "I haven't quite figured that out yet, Draco." 

< >"Oh? Tell me when you do." With that, Draco fainted, weak from vomiting. 

< >When Draco woke up, it was late afternoon. Had he _really_ slept that long? he wondered to himself, having to force his body to sit up. He looked around feverishly. Where was Lupin? 

< >"Have a nice sleep?" Lupin asked, emerging from the trees, carrying firewood. 

< >Draco had to blink twice as his vision slightly blurred, saying nothing. 

< >Lupin didn't say anything again either as he dumped the wood into the dead fire pit. He kneeled next to the fire and took out his wand. He then muttered a few words and a straight line of fire shot out of the end of the stick, striking the wood into a blaze. 

< >Draco stared at the wand. 

< >"What?" Lupin asked, noticing. 

< >"I don't have a wand anymore," Draco said softly. "It was revoked when I had a third strike - or at least they caught me for the third and last time since . . . Whenever I see one, now, though, it amazes me the power they have . . ." He sighed and moved a few feet away from the hot flames of the fire. 

< >"But you can still do magic." 

< >Draco snorted dismissively. "Do you have Alzheimer's, Lupin? You don't need your wand for _everything_; that's what potions, charms, incantations, and dancing rats are for," he replied with a stubborn bitterness. 

< >Lupin narrowed his eyes. "Many people feel lost without their wands." 

< >"And they're idiots," came Draco's short response. 

< >"You only say that because you have adapted more than anyone I've seen." 

< >"Yes," Draco agreed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "I can do without my wand so much, that if I had one, it would be a nuisance, but the damned things are still fascinating. I can't shoot fire out my finger, _yet_; it is merely all words and thoughts that I can use." 

< >Lupin twirled his wand in his fingers, thinking. "You asked me why I was helping you, Draco, did you not?" he asked, dropping their current subject, and going into a new one. 

< >Draco said nothing, looking at the ground. 

< >"Would you like to know why?" 

< >Draco nodded, taking a deep, nervous breath. 

< >"I am not going to tell you," Lupin replied promptly, grinning broadly. Draco looked at him in shock and Lupin laughed, slapping his knees. "You will just have to figure that one out on your own, Draco, my boy, because I don't know it myself." 

< >He then grew very serious. "In any other case, besides my intuition telling me not to, I would be dragging you back to the Ministry in seconds, and believe me, if my senses even _slightly_ falter about you, I _will_ turn you into Arthur Weasley." 

< >"That's comforting," Draco muttered coldly, glaring at the ground darkly. 

< >"I thought so," Lupin said with a small smile. 


	7. Part 7

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

< >Hermione puttered around her office with nothing to do. She was bored, angry, and tired, and those three together were not a good mix. She paced the office, back and forth, back and forth, until she couldn't stand it anymore, and opened the door to her office. 

< >"If anyone here was wondering," she called loudly, in a sneering tone, "I did go looking for Mr. Draco Malfoy. I won't deny it, but did I find him, or even see him? No, and I'm glad I didn't." She then slammed the door to her office for at least the tenth time that day and sunk into her chair, falling asleep almost immediately. 

< >She woke to someone nudging, then shaking her arm. "Hermione, wake up. Hermione? _Hermione_! Wake up! Are you deaf? Come on, I need you to look at these, and neither of us has got all day!" 

< >"Colin," she mumbled sleepily, "let someone else do it . . ." 

< >"You _always_ want to see the pictures before anyone else, though," Colin pressed. 

< >Hermione pushed the photographs away from her without looking at them. "They're fine, Colin. You're a . . . _wonderful_ photographer . . . and the Witch's Brew with Cameron Mannheim on at two . . ." 

< >"_What_?" 

< >Hermione jumped and replied with the same, confused, "_What_?" 

< >"You were asleep, Hermione," Colin said with a sigh, sitting in a chair across from her. "_Dead_ asleep and talking about some radio show . . ." He pushed the pictures back into her hands. "Could you look at these now?" 

< >Hermione rubbed her eyes, yawning, then peered at the pictures. She blinked, looking up at him. "What are these, Colin? Where did you get them?" she demanded sharply, gripping the pictures in her hand tightly. 

< >The first one of top was of a young boy, about sixteen or seventeen years old, sitting in the crook of a tree, looking out at a large, black and white castle, with his back to the camera. The wisps of his light colored hair swept around his head, but he took no matter in them as he stared out, seemingly unaware of the camera. His eyes, even though dark in the picture, shone on the side the camera caught them on, with a sort of teary look to their appearance . . . 

< >Hermione's hands trembled. 

< >Colin looked embarrassed and shifted nervously in his chair, thinking Hermione was going to blow up on him. "They're still I took of Draco at Hogwarts . . . I pulled them out of an old album this morning. Maybe we could put one of them in with that article you wrote . . . they're exclusive pictures, no one else has them, but if you don't want - " 

< >Hermione waved him off. "Go ahead. What do I care?" she said, handing him back the pictures. "Don't do the top one, now, Colin, all right? Save that one for later. I personally don't care which of the others you use, though." She pointed directly to the door and Colin left obediently. 

~

< >Draco finally remembered the articles that Ministry officials had given to him as dusk had begun to fall and pulled them out of his suitcase, ready to read them, for what else did he have to do besides vomit once or twice every hour? 

< >Some of the articles were old ones that he had seen before, but most of them were ones that had been printed in the last two weeks since then. He read each one carefully, his lip curling ominously on some, and sometimes smiling on others. 

< >Draco stopped when he came to the articles written by Hermione. He closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to will away her name so he wouldn't . . . well, he wasn't exactly sure why he didn't want to see or hear her name, but he was doubly sure that he didn't want to see or hear her name. 

< >He opened his eyes and not to any of his surprise, her name was still there in black ink. He sighed, feeling a bit sick, but continued to read through the articles. Lupin came back as Draco was doing so. He read aloud a passage in one article. 

< >"'He was hunched over, his hair covering his eyes, and looked extremely tired in the face. All the pictures I've seen of him was his looking into the camera directly and extremely shrewd looking. The man I saw looked older than he was and only once looked me in the eye, and I can't even be sure of that.'" 

< >Draco looked up at Lupin questionably. "Do I _really_ look _that_ terrible?" 

< >Lupin bit his lip and didn't answer him. Draco looked down, ashamed of himself. He must look _awful_ - an ill, shrewd, _awful_ looking man without hardly a shred of his dignity or self-respect left. 

< >"Here," Lupin said, dropping two newspapers into Draco's lap. "Read the top one first. It's the evening news. You know no one does that very often, unless it's a _very_ busy news day." 

< >Slowly, Draco picked one up and read aloud: 

  
September 10, 2004 -- 5 Knuts -- Malfoy Turmoil   
_"A syndicated use of news!" - Albus Dumbledore_   


**By Hermione Granger   
Editor-in-Chief**

As I write this, I wonder why I am. I couldn't care less what anyone thinks of me, let alone another newspaper who paid _that_ Ministry worker a lot of money for a bunch of lies and so it could just be known to the world that _The Magic Times_ doesn't like me or _The Daily Prophet._   
< >Big secret.   
< >I would like to quote from the article I recently read. "It seems Malfoy has disappeared off the ends of the earth after his encounter with Granger. Not many doubt why."   
< >Nice. Get your kicks, eh, AWAP? Well, this personally doesn't bother me. A reporter doesn't have to be snide to get recognized in journalism, you know. Actually, maybe you don't, since you had to resort to such a punch line to get some sales.   
< > Yes, Draco and I were in love once, or, at least, I thought we were. We separated almost six and a half years ago and the last time I saw him, until the "incident" in Diagon Alley, was then.   
< > I have looked for Draco over the years, as has the rest of the world. The Draco everyone knows now is different from the one I used to know. There's the answer to many people's question, "How could _Hermione_, a respected Gryffindor, _love_ such a snobbish, cunningly lucrative Slytherin like _Draco_?"  
< > Actually, I guess that isn't the current question, but I know many asked that when we were at Hogwarts together. It amazed many people that we could possibly love each other, and it still does. The point of being Gryffindor and Slytherin came up a lot, and it, too, still does.   
< > How awful to think that grudges between two men over a thousand years ago could still live on today, and come up in the twenty-first century, on the topic of two people who used to "love" each other, and after they separated, one became an editor of a wonderful newspaper, and the other became a felon.   
< > This probably shouldn't turn into an article on ethics, but I think the unknown or the "strange" scares people. They curl their lips and sneer, "That's _gay_," "You're a _freak_," or "_Eww_," because they don't know how to respond except with words of things that they also don't understand.   
< > That's the thing people don't understand with Draco and I. We came from two different cultures. Myself, Muggle-born, from a family of dentists; Draco, pure-blood, from a family of intolerance. It's not possible to some that we could actually have a relationship and they blow it off.   
< > And even the people who do, will say, and they do, as you all probably know, "She loved him and she still does, so she'll hide him, and lie to us all!"   
< > Yes, I do still love Draco. He was my best friend, my love, until he left. To me, the man that I knew had a spirit and that spirit died when he left my life, and when we have people we know who have died, their spirit stays with us for all eternity.   
< > That is what it is like with Draco. His spirit still lives within me and within all who knew him and I love that spirit. I love the spirit of Draco that I know, not the one I don't, and you should all understand that.   
< > Thank you all for taking the time to read the truth, or, at least, what is easy enough to say. Know in confidence that this newspaper will do all it can to assist the Ministry in the arrest of Draco Malfoy.

< >Draco threw down the paper. _What _was_ she thinking when she wrote that?_ he yelled in his head. How stupid, how asinine, how . . . how straight to the point. "God damn it!" he shouted, yanking off his ring, and throwing it straight at Lupin who jumped out of the way, just in time. The ring skidded under a bush as he pounded his fists on the hard, dirt ground. 

< >Lupin stared at Draco in amazement who had hunched over slightly, and put a hand on his forehead to cover either his face, or his crying. Lupin couldn't tell if he was bleating or growling. 

< >Draco wasn't doing anything, though. He was lost in horrendous thoughts. _You are such an ass, Draco_, he told himself denouncingly, _you deserve to die for what you've done to the person that you . . . that you once loved! How dare you hurt her - or anyone, for that matter!_

< >Lupin slowly edged toward the bush and recovered the ring. He then moved toward Draco cautiously and sat down next to him, handing the young man back his ring. "I believe this is yours." 

< >"Burn it," Draco snapped. 

< >"Like hell," Lupin snarled, snatching Draco's free hand, and pressing the ring into it. "Are you _completely_ insane, or is that the anger talking? You were always a fool in school, but you shouldn't be one now, because you _aren't_." 

< >Draco looked at his old professor, askance. He opened his hand and let the ring fall from his palm. 

< >Lupin calmly picked it up, dusting it off on his mud caked slacks. "This ring, Draco. Why do you wear it?" he asked slowly. "Does it symbolize something other than a weapon of defense and defiance?" 

< >"No," Draco lied quickly and tersely. 

< >The older man laughed as he fingered the ring carefully, studying it. 

< >"You don't believe me?" Draco demanded fiercely, snatching the ring back. 

< >"No, of course not!" Lupin laughed, slapping his thighs in high amusement. "I mean, of course, in the _nicest_ way possible, Draco, why _should_ I?" He shook with silent laughter for about a minute until he collected himself. 

< >Draco stared down at the ring as he twirled it in his fingers. He slipped it back onto his hand. "You shouldn't, then, Professor Lupin, if that is your opinion," he whispered quietly. 

< >Lupin laughed again and Draco jumped to his feet and stormed away into the forest angrily. 

~

< >Hermione lay in bed that night, kicking herself mentally. She didn't know why she had written that article and demanded a printing for that night. It was ridiculous. She would be reamed by the Ministry, the owner of _The Daily Prophet_ - who hated getting into personal problems - and who knew who else? 

< >The article had been poorly written, in her opinion, composed in a mad dash of confusion, anger, and humility. She wanted to cry, but refused to. She was not a weak person to cry over something as . . . as trivial as this all was. 

< >But every word she had said was true. She still loved the Draco she knew. She did not know that year's Draco, or the year before's Draco; she knew the last two years of Hogwarts' Draco. That was who she knew, who she loved. 

< >And it was true - she would help the Ministry in any way to track down Draco. It was getting to be too much. Draco, the one she knew, however, was not a murderer, but how did she know the Draco she didn't know wasn't a murderer? And it was already proven that Draco was a thief, a con man, and that was against the wizard laws, so he _should_ be prosecuted, Hermione tried to tell herself reassuringly. _But what will I do if the Ministry can somehow prove that Draco is a murderer . . . ?_

~

< >Draco came back an hour later and sat in front of the fire without a word to Lupin who was carving a piece of wood and humming to himself as he warmed himself in front of the large fire. 

< >Lupin smiled at him. "Have a good tantrum?" he asked cheerfully. 

< >Draco looked sourly at him. 

< >"Is that a no?" 

< >"Leave me alone, Lupin," Draco muttered. 

< >"Only if you tell me what the ring is about," Lupin replied. 

< >Draco looked at Lupin angrily. "I will not tell you what my ring is _not_, just to get you to stop talking to me," he growled in a low tone. He looked away from Lupin and into the roaring fire. 

< >"It's not good to look into the fire," Lupin said quietly as he resumed carving. 

< >Draco snorted, but didn't looked at him. "_Why_?" 

< >"If you look into the flame too hard, the fire demons will get you," Lupin said quietly. 

< >"That's a myth," Draco snapped, annoyed, but yet he found himself looking away from the fire. He looked up past the fire where little balls of fire rose above and disappeared into the black of the night sky. 

< >Lupin smiled to himself, his face looking eerie in the firelight. He said nothing. < >"Have you figured out what you're going to do with me?" Draco asked, catching Lupin off-guard. His smiled turned into a frown. 

< >"No. Should I have?" 

< >Draco sighed and got to his feet. He threw up his arms and spun around, staring straight up at the stars as he did. "Yes - you - should - have," he told Lupin in short breaths as he still spun, never seeming to tire or dizzy. "My - fate - is - in - your - hands - and - I - will - not - trust - those - hands - unless - they - trust - me." He stopped spinning and put a hand against a trunk of a tall tree to steady himself. He stumbled a bit, finally dizzy, and he cocked his knees slightly, looking as if he would throw up. 

< >"I trust you." Lupin still sat on the ground, looking up at Draco vigilantly. 

< >Draco laughed shortly. "No, you don't. You wouldn't disappear into the forest every night where you know I cannot see if you trusted me. You think I'll kill you." He slid against the rough bark of the trunk and onto the ground. "Admit it, Lupin, you think I would kill you given half the chance. 

< >"I do not believe you would kill me." 

< >"_Ha_!" Draco laughed curtly, pointing an enraged, accusing finger at Lupin, but trying not to show too much that he _knew_ he was hysterical. "You, _Professor _Lupin, are only a liar to the liar! You would not lie to anyone else _but_ me. I frighten you, and you don't want to admit it! Many people admit it, but not to my face. Are you like that, _Professor_ Lupin? _Are_ you?" 

< >"I am not a liar," Lupin said in a tone right for a child. 

< >Draco's eyes narrowed angrily. "Don't you _dare_ try to patronize me anymore." 

< >"If I even _thought_ you were capable of killing me, Draco," Lupin continued calmly, "would I be here? I told you in the beginning that if I even had some premonition that you _were_ or _are_ a murderer, or a murderer-in-training, I would turn you in immediately. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, have I?" 

< >Draco looked away, put out. 

< >Lupin pulled himself to his feet with a stretch. "I haven't - _yet_," he warned, shaking a finger at Draco. "You're going to have to shape up and get some manners if you ever want to accuse me of something, and - " 

< >"Are manners going to factor in at my trial?" Draco shouted. 

< >"- _and_ get some evidence," Lupin finished. He bent over and picked up a blanket, then threw it at Draco. 

< >Draco wrapped it around himself silently, pulling it on his head to keep his ears warm. "Everyone has the evidence that I gambled, cheated, and screwed people. They have the evidence that I stole for money, for clothes, and for a bit of power and influence on every society I wanted . . . and evidence can be manufactured to 'prove' that I'm a murderer." He looked up at Lupin with a pathetic look of hopelessness in his eyes. "My word is no good. I'm a liar, a cheat, a thief. Who believes someone like me?" 

< >"_Me_." 

< >Draco threw back his head and shook with laughter. "As if a werewolf's word is as good as a convict's, if not more looked down upon!" He bent over, laughing and sniggering into the dirt, trying to muffle his giggles with his hand. It didn't work and he just sputtered with even more laughter. He had tears in his eyes, but then they turned to real tears, his laughter quickly fading. 

< >Holding a hand over his face, trying not to show Lupin his tears, he sobbed. Draco's shoulders shook as he hunched over, leaning sideways against the tree. "I'm _pathetic_," he moaned through tears. "My father knows it, I know it, the _whole world_ knows it! I am a lying, pathetic brigand who cries like a baby! Oh, death would be better than the anticipating wait, just expecting officers to jump out of the bushes to bring me to my assured death!" 

< >Lupin turned away to give Draco a little sense of dignity. 

< >"My . . . my father," Draco said, choking out his words slowly, but thinking hysterically. "He . . . he _knew_ I was a wretched piece of crap . . . but maybe he was just looking out for my greater interests. . . . Think of what I could have become if I had just gone home!" 

< >"I'd rather not think of it," Lupin said quietly. 

< >"But . . . but _he_ . . . he . . ." Draco wiped his face with the blanket as more tears spilled out. 

< >"He _what_, Draco?" Lupin asked, turning around tediously. 

< >Draco closed his eyes. "I was _so_ angry, _so_ cross, so immature. . . . I knew _nothing_ about the real world . . . I was just a kid!" he cried more to himself than Lupin. "He . . . he told me that he would . . . he would torture her if . . ." He broke into more sobs, thinking to himself all the while he was truly going insanely mad. 

< >Lupin crouched in front of him and pulled Draco's hands away from his face. Draco was forced to look at him, sniffing back tears and the mucus, threatening to pour out of his nose like a floodgate being opened. 

< >"Who did your father say he would hurt, Draco?" Lupin asked in an almost baby voice, trying to coax him to speak. "Was it your mother? What happened? Can you tell me? Did your father want to hurt your mother?" 

< >Draco shook his head and ripped his wrists out of Lupin's nimble, yet firm grasp. Lupin's nails raked across Draco's exposed wrists, but Draco didn't seem to notice. He pulled the blanket over face, trying to block out Lupin's voice. 

< >"Draco . . ." 

< >"I am not a baby!" Draco screamed abruptly. 

< >Lupin regarded him with surprise. "I never said you _were_, Draco." 

< >"Yeah," Draco sniffed, "but you were thinking it!" 

< >"People deal with things differently than other people." 

< >"Then I am the most different of them all!" 

< >"Different isn't a bad thing, Draco . . ." Lupin said softly. 

< >Draco wiped his nose with the blanket and took a deep breath. "I know it isn't, but there is nothing I'd rather give up at this moment just to blend in with the crowd! To not be what and who I am! My difference is what sets me apart from the rest! From my father, especially!" 

< >"Is this about your father, Draco?" 

< >"It is about many things," Draco said heinously, as if damning himself, moving slowly around so he could face Lupin. "But I tend to moan more about him than anything else, besides saying and thinking and living, 'My life sucks.' It does, though, and I admit it." He smiled wanly at Lupin. "I, however, at times, have a good humor about it. This, though, is not one of those times." 

< >Lupin peered at Draco closely. He sat on the dirt and curled his legs up to his chin, so he could set it upon his knobby knees. "What happened with you and your father, Draco?" he asked delicately. 

< >Draco snorted. "You think I will tell you at _any_ time when I have told no one in my _entire_ life since then?" he demanded shortly. "Professor Lupin, excuse me, sir, but you truly are a _daft_ teacher and person if you think I will open up to anyone about the goings-on of my personal life concerning my father and I." 

< >Lupin straightened and motioned to the dark trees surrounding the two with his hands and a jab with his head. "Look around you, Draco! There is no one here!" Lupin replied, dropping his hands onto his knees, aghast. 

< >"And that makes it all right?" Draco yelled. 

< >"There is no need to yell." 

< >"No, there isn't," Draco agreed, "but I want to!" 

< >"Did your father hurt you, Draco?" Lupin demanded, his voice rising. "Can you at least tell me _that_, damn you be whimmed enough to?" 

< >Draco lowered his eyes and didn't answer. 

< >Lupin leaned in. "He did, didn't he?" 

< >"He beat me up," Draco whispered, "threatened me that he would torture and kill Hermione . . . _and_ her _whole_ family, if . . . if I followed what he considered the wrong footsteps. . . ." Draco rubbed his forehead nervously. "He told me that if I came home without leaving to go back to Hermione or even _thinking_ of Hermione, he would leave them all alone, especially Hermione . . . but yes, he beat me until I couldn't refuse . . ." 

< >"That's all I wanted to hear," Lupin replied. 


	8. Part 8

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ 

September 11th, 2004 -- Saturday 

< >"You're a damned fool, Hermione!" Percy Weasley screamed at her. 

< >Hermione looked at him for a moment, then turned, and slowly walked back to her kitchen in her robe and slippers, padding down the wood-floored vestibule. Percy followed after her, slamming the front door behind him. He was shouting obscenities after her angrily, shaking a finger. 

< >"Percy, for God sakes! _Shut up_! This is supposed to be my weekend off and I'm tired as hell!" Hermione moaned, falling into a chair at her kitchen table. She picked up her cup of coffee and sipped it gratefully with a sigh. 

< >"Everyone knew that it was me who told the _Times_!" Percy protested, sitting down across from her. 

< >Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "And you wonder why." 

< >Percy turned red with rage and began to shake his finger at her again. "Now, listen hear, you wench, you have _no right_ to criticize - " 

< >Hermione slapped him across the face before he could finished and he cursed, holding his hands to the side of his face, moaning. "I have _every_ right, Percy, to say anything I want! You made that _very_ clear just a week ago! Must I remind you of what you said?" Hermione demanded, almost yelling. 

< >"_No_," Percy moaned. 

< >"_Never_ disturb me while I'm having my coffee," Hermione barked. 

< >"Did you _have_ to hit me _again_?" Percy groaned, cringing as he slowly lowered his hands from his face. 

< >"Of _course_ not," Hermione sneered. "You don't _intentionally_ try to insult me!" She shook her head and took another sip of the bitter liquid. "Why are you here, Percy? You aren't here, obviously, for another slap. Say your peace and leave." 

< >"There is no _peace_, as you say, Hermione, but I actually came here to apologize." 

< >"Could have fooled me." 

< >Percy looked away. "I know I didn't go about it right, but . . ." He bit his lip, staring down at his feet. When he looked up finally, Hermione was surprised to see pain in his eyes. "Her - Hermione, I don't even _remember_ what obliterated our friendship . . . You - you were so upset about Draco . . . and you . . ." 

< >"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" Hermione demanded sharply. 

< >Percy shook his head sincerely. "No, but it was both of our faults . . . you and my family's . . ." He closed his eyes. "It was only Ron and Ginny who really understood the _situation_ . . . and whenever they tried to tell the rest of us, we wouldn't listen." Percy sighed and opened his eyes to look Hermione straight on. "When you visited, we all tried to convince you that you could do better, and that was our mistake . . . we didn't understand that you could love such a person that we perceived Draco to be . . . Lucius' son, after all . . . we thought father like son . . ." 

< >"Just like you and Arthur," Hermione muttered, looking down at her coffee. 

< >Percy chuckled softly. "Exactly." Hermione looked up, startled. "But," he continued, "I guess you always knew he wasn't . . ." He sighed again and avoided her eyes. "I just came here to apologize on my behalf . . . for my actions and words over the years . . . I suddenly realized what I had done . . ." 

< >"Is this a stunt?" Hermione demanded hotly. 

< >"No." 

< >"Does your father know you're here?" 

< >"No." 

< >Hermione shook her head. "You do understand why I think this is all a trick? You're apologizing out of the blue and I just _slapped_ you for shouting obscenities at me. It seems all rather suspicious," she told him darkly, taking another sip of her coffee, glaring at Percy over the rim of the cup. 

< >Percy looked down and nodded. "I am _so _sorry." 

< >Hermione didn't answer for a while. "Please leave, Percy. I can't just accept your apology for your cruelties and insensitivity to me over the last six years. A friend told me once 'Only trust the trusted,' and you are not the trusted, Percy. I am sorry." As Percy got up to leave, she called loudly, "I'll keep to what I said, however. I will help your father and the rest of the Ministry in any way I can to find Draco." 

< >Percy nodded solemnly and left, the front door snapping shut behind him. 

~

< >Draco had finally mustered enough strength by the next morning, a Saturday - _But of what month, what year, what day is it?_ he wondered - to read the other article about him that Lupin had brought him the night before. 

< >"Draco Malfoy, my son, this is a plea for your return," it read. Draco's eyes widened with surprise as he read on. "Draco, come back, turn yourself in, _please_. I want to see your face again, in person, and you've taken your toll on society. I know that isn't too comforting to hear from me, but you _need_ to come out of hiding, and turn yourself in. 

< >"_Please_, Draco, you have proven what you wanted to prove in the world, but at what cost? That you _will_ one day be caught for your crimes? You might as well turn yourself in . . . I love you more than you could possibly know and I am just finally advising to you publicly that you should come back. So does your father. _Mother_." 

< >"Some rather odd articles lately, eh, Draco?" Lupin asked him as he handed Draco a cup of tea and a bowl of hot cereal. 

< >Draco didn't answer as he tossed the paper into the fire to burn. He looked up at Lupin. "My mother didn't write that," he whispered. "She wouldn't. It's my father, pulling another publicity stunt, trying to act as if he's a good guy . . . My mother writes much better than that. _That_ is crap. Another lie. Another reason for my father to get what he wants. If I did turn myself in, he would come out, and yell, 'I wrote that for my wife and I, and see how it worked? Like a charm, like a charm!' And the public would believe him . . ." 

< >Lupin said nothing as he sat down with his own cup of tea. 

< >Draco continued. "They would, since I'm even more dangerous, supposedly than he is anymore! What a laugh! That man would kill everyone in the world, just to prove that he could! He is a lying cheating scum and - oh God . . . no better than me . . . I am no better than him . . . I _am_ him!" 

< >Lupin set a comforting hand on Draco's knees, looking the young man directly in the eyes. "No, you're not," he told Draco solemnly. "You're far from it, Draco, just keep telling yourself that. All right? You are _nothing_ like your father, believe me, nothing at all." 

< >Draco closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. 

< >Saying nothing, Lupin got to his feet, and disappeared into the forest, and Draco cried. He didn't know why he did, but he did, and for a long while. Again, everything around him was hitting with him with such force that he wanted to melt into the forest, never to be seen again, and let himself cry forever. 

< >Lupin came back an hour later, finding Draco curled up in a ball, against "his tree," quietly watching the forest around him. He said nothing to Lupin as the older man refilled Draco's teacup and cleaned up Draco's breakfast. 

< >"You really are going to have to stop feeling sorry for yourself," Lupin told Draco pointedly as he boiled water over the small fire. 

< >"And let myself _not_ feel sorry for myself? Fat chance," Draco laughed bitterly. 

< >Lupin laughed. "Seriously, though, Draco. Feeling sorry for yourself all the time isn't healthy." 

< >"Neither is crime," Draco snapped. "_Or_ murder." 

< >"You haven't murdered anyone." 

< >"Myself." 

< >"I doubt that is a crime to anyone but yourself. You aren't dead." 

< >"On the outside I'm not." 

< >"If you can cry and feel as miserable as you think you are, you're not dead," Lupin replied. 

< >"When did you become an expert on me, Lupin?" Draco demanded. 

< >Lupin threw back his head and laughed. "I believe most people are, Draco." 

< >"There goes more self-enthusiasm," Draco sniffed, turning his head to look into the lush, green trees, "and any way of pleading that I never killed anyone. Society believes they know me _too_ much and they assume that such a _mean_ person is capable of murder and most will believe them." 

< >"I don't. Hermione doesn't." 

< >"I said most," Draco said darkly. 

< >Lupin turned around and straightened so he could look down at Draco. "Why _don't_ you turn yourself in?" he asked defiantly. 

< >Draco's eyes narrowed menacingly. "To prove people like my father and Arthur Weasley wrong." He pulled himself to his feet and looked Lupin in the eye. "I will not lower my own self standards to their petty levels. I will not let them think what they want to think, because it is all lies. I never took a life, but I have questioned my own. If I have not made myself clear, please tell me so, Professor Lupin so I can start over and make myself even more clear!" 

< >Lupin glared back at him. "A man who would consider taking his own life is no weaker a man than a man who hides in a forest for years, afraid of the world around him," he growled, holding his hands at his side in tight balls. 

< >"You are _not_ weak, Lupin," Draco said. 

< >"And neither are you." 


	9. Part 9

_Amid the Encircling Gloom_

~ September 13th, 2004 -- Monday 

< >Hermione walked through the halls of her office building two days after Percy's speech to her, looking in on her employees, and pleasantly greeting them, commenting on their latest work in the office, or assigning them a new story for the following week. 

< >Finally, she had spoken with everyone who had needed to speak with her, and she walked into her office, closing the door behind her. She turned around and swallowed a gasp. Her leather chair with the high back was faced to the wall when she walked in and there was someone sitting in it, a newspaper held open in front of them. 

< >"May - may I help you, sir - ma'am?" Hermione stuttered, pressing her back against the door, an attentive hand on the doorknob. 

< >The person in the chair swung around in the chair and lowered the newspaper. 

< >Hermione's heart stopped beating for a second and her throat felt like it was collapsing. 

< >"Hello, Hermione," said Draco Malfoy calmly, twirling a pen back and forth in his fingers. "It's nice to see you again." 

~

< >Draco smiled at Hermione. Hermione just stared at him and he closed the newspaper, then read from the front page, "'Yes, I do still love Draco. He was my best friend, my love, until he left. To me, the man that I knew had a spirit and that spirit died when he left my life, and when we have people we know who have died, their spirit stays with us for all eternity. 

< >"'That is what it is like with Draco. His spirit still lives within me and within all who knew him and I love that spirit. I love the spirit of Draco that I know, not the one I don't, and you should all understand that.'" He folded the paper and tossed it aside. 

< >"Hello, Hermione," he said again, smiling just as confidently. 

< >"H - how did you get in here?" Hermione demanded shakily. 

< >Draco smiled. "Just as easy as walking through the door." Hermione's face paled and Draco nodded, still smiling. "Yes, just a bit of magic to change my hair color and eyes, and I'm a completely different person to your security guard; perhaps, a new, hot reporter, ready for my big break." 

< >"What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded. 

< >Draco jumped to his feet and recited loudly and angrily, "'To me, the man that I knew had a spirit and that spirit died'! Is that what you think of me? A man whose spirit died and was reincarnated into a self-serving felon, Hermione?" He slammed his fist down on the desk. 

< >"I did not say that and you know what I meant!" Hermione shouted. 

< >"No, I don't, and pray tell, enlighten me!" 

< >"You're not the person I once knew! Now, you're just a damned monster!" Hermione cried. "It was the nicest way to say that! What else did you want me to say? 'Oh, he used to be such a _nice_ boy!'?" 

< >Draco looked away for a moment. 

< >"Why are you here, Draco?" Hermione demanded hotly. 

< >Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Along with your _wonderful_ article and my father _pleading_ for my return, I thought I had to make an appearance!" His scowl turned into a mischievous smirk. "Really, Hermione, I thought you would understand." 

< >Hermione glared at him. "Your _father_ pleading your return?" 

< >Draco threw back his head and laughed. "You _really_ think my _mother_ after _six years_ would do something like that? _Hardly_! My father wrote that piece of crap as a publicity stunt. He wants people to know the Malfoys are still alive, though not for long!" 

< >Hermione didn't answer. 

< >"Cat got your tongue?" Draco asked cheerfully. 

< >"Get _out_." 

< >"Short and sweet, eh, Hermione?" 

< >"If you have any self-respect or dignity or even just a _slight_ bit of worry that you might get caught, you will leave," Hermione said coldly. "It is better for both of us that you just leave and disappear forever, out of my life. If you need help getting out of the country, fake identification - " 

< >"You flatter me," Draco snarled, "that you would take this much _time to care_ if I disappeared from society and if I have self-respect. Well, _Hermione_, I have lost every shred of dignity I've ever had days ago. I have none left and I refuse to do anything _anyone_ wants me to!" 

< >"Especially me, right?" Hermione snapped. 

< >Draco grabbed the edge of the desk so tightly that his knuckles turned white. 

< >"Didn't I ask you to leave?" Hermione glared darkly at Draco. 

< >"Not politely." Draco smirked. 

< >"_Please_ leave, then." 

< >"I don't feel like it," Draco replied, smiling thinly. "What about that?" 

< >"_LEAVE_!" Hermione screamed. 

< >"_NO_!" Draco yelled back. 

< >"Hermione - ?" asked a voice from outside the door. 

< >"Get out of here, Colin," Hermione snapped, locking the door. 

< >"What's wrong? We can all hear you screaming and - " 

< >"Tell everyone to go to lunch early," Hermione said curtly. "Now." 

< >"All - all right, whatever you say, Hermione," Colin stuttered through the door. The two angry people in the office heard him hurry away, telling people sharply to take their breaks, as he went. 

< >Hermione's eyes flashed darkly as Draco slowly came around the desk. "_Are_ you going to leave, Draco?" she asked of him pointedly, scowling with fury. "Or must I make you leave _myself_, Draco?" Her tone was hard and cold. 

< >Draco smiled. "Petty threats won't make me leave." 

< >Hermione whipped out her wand from her jacket pocket and pressed the tip of it right square between Draco's eyes. "Then how about a curse to make you leave?" Hermione sneered, glaring at him. "You _know_ that I'm serious." 

< >Draco stiffened and stared at her in shock, gripping the front of the desk tightly. He swallowed nervously. "Yes," he whispered, "I do." 

< >"Hand over your wand," Hermione snapped. 

< >With a sigh, Draco relaxed, and looked at Hermione with an amused smile. "I do not have a wand." 

< >"So, you're just a magician, now?" Hermione jeered. 

< >Draco laughed. "I do not have a wand, nor do I use a wand, Hermione. It was snapped, don't you remember?" he asked of her, smiling. "On my third offense that I _was_ caught for." 

< >"That was the last time you let yourself be caught." 

< >Draco's eyes flashed with something unrecognizable. "You remember . . ." 

< >"Who could forget if reminded?" Hermione asked, moving her wand away. 

< >Draco shook his head with a sigh. "I am unarmed, if you feel a whim to fight." 

< >"It would be a slaughter." 

< >"Don't be too sure," Draco replied darkly. 

< >Hermione narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Where have you been?" 

< >Draco looked away. "In the forest . . . somewhere . . ." 

< >"I looked for you." 

< >"I know . . . you said so in your article . . ." 

< >"I did not!" 

< >Draco smiled wryly at her. "There were underlying things." 

< >"You pretend to know people when you yourself are indignant to people knowing you," Hermione said coolly. 

< >"Because they are wrong about me!" Draco protested. 

< >"And how do you know that you're not wrong about me?" Hermione yelled. 

< >Draco looked at her and didn't answer for a few moments. "I don't know." 

< >"That's obvious," Hermione sneered. 

< >Draco looked down at his feet, rubbing his hands together nervously. "If you suppose you know me, however, you may be wrong. I am not a monster or a total miscreant, but a monstrosity and a mooncalf." He fingered his ring nervously. "I am a freak and people believe that, especially, since I believe that." 

< >Hermione regarded him with surprise. "A freak?" 

< >The young man shook his head. "It's no use. I'm a full fledged freak of nature, a cruel one, too, who beats people up, steals their money, and _murders_ a few of them, just for spite," Draco barked more to himself than Hermione. 

< >"You brought it upon yourself," Hermione replied simply, finally pocketing her wand. 

< >"Perhaps," Draco agreed. 

< >He rubbed his eye and as he was lowering his hand, Hermione snatched it. "Why do you still where this?" she demanded angrily, holding up the hand so he could see the ring very clearly. "_WHY_?" 

< >Draco jerked his hand away from her and hid it behind his back. He didn't reply. 

< >"Are you going to answer me!" Hermione shouted. 

< >"Why don't you wear _yours_?" Draco retorted. 

< >Hermione was speechless. 

< >Draco smiled through gritted teeth. "I wear the ring for the same reason you do not wear yours, Hermione. Everyone expresses their emotions in different ways. I am indifferent to the _real_ significance of this ring, while you hide yours away," he said quietly. 

< >"You lie. You are not indifferent." 

< >Draco didn't answer. 

< >"And I do not hide mine away, I just do not care to wear it." 

< >That made Draco snort with incoherent laughter. "You do not just not _care_ to wear it!" he taunted. "You are scared people will mark you even more with me! You do not wear the ring because you don't want to remember me, but it happens anyway! Now, who is the liar in this room, Hermione? Me, or _you_?" 

< >Hermione slapped him across the face. Draco's head snapped to the side and he didn't move. A strand of hair fell over his eye, but he didn't brush it away. Draco was just as still and as silent as a board, and just as rigid. 

< >"Percy Weasley can tell you that I am becoming a rather professional at doing that," Hermione told Draco coldly. "He is probably right." 

< >Draco finally brushed away the lock of hair, but didn't turn his face back to Hermione, too ashamed. He rubbed his cheek vigorously. "He is right," Draco said softly. "And I deserved that, and probably a few more . . ." 

< >Hermione looked at him with surprise. "You admit that?" 

< >Draco snapped his head straight and glared at her. "For what I have done and not done, I do." Hermione merely stared at him and Draco finally demanded vehemently, "Do you still want me to leave, Hermione?" 

< >Before she could even open her mouth to reply, Draco embraced her tightly, and kissed her deeply. She struggled to get away, but soon found herself kissing him back, wrapping her arms around him. 

< >Draco kept his eyes closed as he pulled his lips away from Hermione's, then opened them slowly. Hermione looked into his eyes and choked out breathlessly, "Where did that come from, Draco?" 

< >Tears welded up in Draco's eyes as he pulled himself away from Hermione and whispered, "I am sorry," then hurried out the office door, leaving Hermione behind to stare after him in shock. 

~

< >Draco angrily brushed away a single tear as he stalked through the forest, looking for Lupin. He had Apparated back to their camp outside of the _Prophet_ offices and found Lupin not there. Once he had waited at least an hour for him to return, Draco decided to go searching for him, just in case Lupin was hurt, or just screwing with him. 

< >"Lupin!" Draco called angrily. "Where are you? Professor Lupin? Remus?" 

< >"_Draco_," a hoarse voice whispered from under a bush next to Draco's foot. 

< >Draco jumped backwards in surprise. "Professor Lupin?" he asked, crouching down, and pushing back the sharp brambles. He found Lupin lying on his side, looking feverish, and he automatically reached for Lupin. 

< >"_NO_!" Lupin shouted. "Don't come any closer to me!" 

< >Lupin's voice was so urgent, Draco recoiled, and took a step backward. 

< >"Tonight . . . the moon . . ." 

< >Draco stopped dead. "Is - is there anything I can do?" he asked timidly after a moment. 

< >Lupin's eyes flashed with hostility. "No," he replied, "unless you want to be my food when night falls. I've been too busy to make my medication . . . If you leave me, you should be safe . . ." 

< >"How can I be safe if _you_ will be roaming the forest?" Draco asked. 

< >Lupin smiled bleakly. "I'll make it to my small hut before nightfall." He groaned painfully, as if already feeling his transformation coming on. "Just leave now, Draco, for the better. _Go_!" he insisted when Draco hesitated. 

< >Draco ran back to camp and collapsed against his tree, breathing in short breaths. He would have to deal, now, with the fact that Lupin would be confined for a few days in his hut he claimed to have, and that he was helpless in a dangerous forest, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter to Draco. 

~

< >"Draco _what_?" Harry Potter asked again, looking at Hermione closely, to see if she was lying. 

< >Hermione's eyes darkened. "He kissed me, Harry, is that not clear enough for you?" she demanded coldly. 

< >"He came in your office?" Harry asked suspiciously, taking a long glance around the office. "Did you find anything missing, Hermione? Any valuables, money, paperwork, _anything_? Could you list them, possibly, and - " 

< >Hermione slammed her fist down on her desk and Harry's attention snapped to her. "Haven't you been listening, Harry? I told you that he is in a forest! He would not lie about that, Harry! He is in the forest!" 

< >"And _what_ forest would _that_ be, Hermione?" Harry snapped. "There are forests _everywhere_! He could be in the forest next door, he could be in the Yukon, or he could be in a South American jungle, for all we know!" 

< >"You could _look_," Hermione sneered darkly. "There is no problem with that, is there? When _I_ looked for Draco, which he knew, I did not look at night, but I will bet he is quite confident he can light a fire now without being bothered." 

< >Harry peered at her over the rim of his glasses. "You are sure we might find him?" he asked cautiously. 

< >"Oh, yes," Hermione replied, her eyes set fixedly on Harry's. "We will find him." 

~

< >Later that day, during the early evening hours, just before dusk, Draco lit the nightly fire, feeding it carefully so it came to a roaring blur of orange and reds in the misty evening of the night. He put the kettle on the small, rusty grill that Lupin used, and began to heat up more tea, waiting for night to fall. 

< >When nightfall did come, the fire was going down, and Draco needed more wood, so he trudged out into the forest, blindly picking up branches and pulling dead bark off tree trunks with his fingernails. 

< >Draco tripped and stumbled slowly back to his camp when his arms were full of timber, but stopped when he heard voices. He was about five yards from the grove, concealed by thickness of the forest, and he carefully crept closer to the camp, not realizing he was still holding tightly onto his fire wood, looking like he was holding on for dear life. 

< >He bent over to peer into the camp, hiding partially behind a bush. There were at least half a dozen or more people meandering around the camp, all talking at once, and Draco couldn't tell which one was saying what. 

< >"It looks like two or three people were here . . . look at the footprints . . ." 

< >"But he could have been here a while . . ." 

< >"Look . . . a bag . . . a suitcase . . ." 

< >"Don't disturb the evidence . . ." 

< >"This just could be a honeymooner's camp . . ." 

< >"I doubt it . . . this camp . . . it looks too . . . _rugged _. . ." 

< >Draco recognized the last voice with a muffled gasp. He dropped the firewood as he slapped a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't scream. _Harry!_

< >"What was that?" someone yelled. 

< >"Where did it come from?" 

< >"Over there!" 

< >"Look!" 

< >Harry Potter whirled around, wielding a flashlight in one hand. He swished the light over the trees. Draco couldn't move. He was frozen, that is, until the light caught him. A split second after the light washed over him, he turned around, and _ran_. He ran faster than he ever had in his life deep into the forest. 

< >"Stop!" shouted a voice close behind him. 

< >"Halt! You are under arrest!" barked another. 

< >Draco just ran harder and turned, vaulting over a thicket of brambles. He landed badly and rolled on the ground until he smacked into a tree trunk. Draco jumped to his feet like a cat, unfazed, listened carefully, and quickly spotted Muggle flashlights, lit wands, and torches dancing in the trees behind him. There weren't just six people there, Draco realized with some dread. 

< >"Draco!" Harry called. "You're surrounded! Come out!" 

< >"Fat chance," Draco muttered to himself, stooping low, but keeping his head up high enough to peer over the brambles in front of him. He saw bobbing lights and heads, illuminated by the light, scrambling frantically around in the trees and thick undergrowth, calling to each other, cursing as they ran into trees. 

< >Suddenly, Draco was illuminated by light from behind. Draco whirled around on his hands and heels, holding an opened palm over his eyes to shield them from the bright light of the flashlight. 

< >"I got him!" a woman's voice yelled. The figure moved in on him. 

< >Draco launched himself away from the woman and pelted through the woods like a shot. He swore he felt the breath of his pursuers on the back of his neck and his head swirled as he heard angry shouts and dog barks as he ran. 

< >Without warning, Draco flew through the air, right back into camp. He had done a complete circle, he knew, as he fell on his side, and slid across the camp in the loose dirt. Draco felt the cantankerous, sudden, angry pain of a twisted ankle as the bottom of his feet slammed and twisted into the large boulder on one side of the camp. He cried out and his whole body bucked in pain. He grabbed his stomach and curled into a protective ball, cowering and shaking in pain. 

< >Dozens of lights filled the camp, surrounding the grove around him _and_ him. 

< >Fearfully, Draco clawed madly at the dirt, trying find a hold to pull himself up. He kicked out his legs, as if running on air, despite the agony filling his body from the twisted ankle. He was hysterical, thinking he just _had_ to get off his side, then he could escape. . . . 

< >A shadow loomed above the helpless Draco, holding a flashlight beam in his eyes, and Draco stopped flailing around to look up at the figure. Though the figure was dark due to the light, Draco knew who it was instantly, and scrambled maniacally to try to get to his feet. The figure let him. 

< >Draco finally stumbled to his feet and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He reopened his eyes then and held out two, turned down fists to the figure. "I am done running," Draco told the figure solemnly, thrusting out his chin defiantly. 

< >The figure moved out of the light, taking Draco's wrists, and handcuffing them securely, silently confident that Draco would not get himself out of them. "Yes," Harry told Draco in grim agreement, "you _are_." 

~

_Author's Note:_

< >Okay, so I just ended up writing a little sequel to _Across Enemy Lines_, that ended up at exactly 77 pages, 30,780 words, 135,108 characters, 982 paragraphs, and 3,436 lines - all without the Author's Note and any HTML work. With the Author's Note, I don't know. If _you_ want to know, I'd suggest just _count_. ::smirks:: 

< >Anyway, this story was going to be longer, but I cut off about twenty-two pages for yet another sequel (that I may or may not continue with for a while, since I'm doing a lot of things lately). I do think I screwed up a bit with this story, but that's just an opinion. I feel a bit better about than I did with _Across Enemy Lines_ where I felt I was under way too much pressure to finish writing it. 

< >The thing with some authors, like me, if you talk about it with anyone, and then try writing more on the story, it comes out really cliché , and you hate it. Power to anyone who doesn't have that problem! 

< >Okay, I know I also didn't really explain the "problems" between the Weasleys and Hermione Granger, but that will be explained . . . _someday_. Whenever I get around to having ideas about the next sequel . . . I have ideas "The Enemy Series" will either be a trilogy or a trilogy with a prequel. Just don't bug me about writing them, or they'll never happen! :-) 

< >This probably took me about twenty days or so, maybe a bit less, listening to music like Destiny's Child - "The Writing's on the Wall" (great CD; not really rap) - Savage Garden - "Affirmation" (_wonderful_ album!) - *NSYNC (or however the heck you write that) - "*NSYNC" & "No Strings Attached" - Irish music I purchased for four dollars, Bread - "Anthology of Bread" (20 tracks of pure oldies! And now I can't exactly find the CD . . .), and probably some other stuff I can't remember. ::laughs:: 

< >I wrote quite a few pages of this story during my social studies class (sorry, Mr. K, I didn't like the movies) and during a few other classes that I was really bored in. Sorry to all my teachers, but the writing just hit me . . . At least they know enough that if I'm writing, I'm not writing a "letter" in pink, yellow, and blue ink to anyone . . . ::grins icily, thinking how her work might have been crumpled up:: 

< >The oddity I put into this story is also affected by 80 degree heat in _March_ (for crying out loud, that's hot!) in sunny California with no rain (we're supposed to get some tomorrow . . .) or any cool breeze except for a fan in a room where my animals "like" to go "potty," but I guess that really isn't the point of anything, is it? ::frowns as people grimace:: 

< >Draco is my favorite character now. I never was very sure, but actually trying to make him live in my eyes in the way I wanted him to made me love him as a mysterious, outwardly cruel character, and I _really_ hope Ms. Rowling doesn't keep him (or Snape, people!) angry and mean . . . I'd probably cry . . . ::sniffs:: 

< >And on a personal note, if you noticed all the dates in the year 2004, and remembered them, then looked on a calendar, you'd find that they were pretty much all correct, though I _could_ have screwed up somewhere. Thanks to absentmindedness and a computer calendar. 

  
< >Now, for thanks! (Oh, aren't you so excited! . . . ::is so excited::) Thanks to my parents for dealing with my nasal singing as I listened to music, to my Internet friends for being supportive of all my writing (and lying to me if they thought it was cruddy), to my school friends (who I frequently use in unfinished stories, but still demanded to see them), and to my language arts teachers (and all the others who might care) for supporting my writing. 

< >Also, the songs "Yellow Submarine" and "They're Coming to Take Me Away" lip synched to by my friends Ryan, Jeff, Aileen, and Allison, and Lauren, Matt, and Thera (who have _never_ seen my website and couldn't care less) affected my little dramatic moments, especially the "Dark Thing," since I do think I'm crazy and yellow submarines follow me around like pink elephants . . . Just kidding! 

< >Also, to my cousin, Gypsy, and her husband, Shaddow, and Robin and Chuck who are being kind enough to let me come out to Texas in June, and to my thesaurus and spell check, who caught me writing like this: Le'ts al lgo to the amuseeeement park (well, not really, but I've done some _baaaaaaad_ stuff) - when I typed REALLY to fast. Always remember this when people criticize any bad spelling on a computer: "I'm not illiterate. I just type fast!" Hehe, I can type 73 words a minutes, as Mavis Beacon tells me . . . 

< >Okay, looks like I'm done now, a little bit into page 79. My disclaimers, signature, and final notes will probably run onto page 80 - ooh, look! They did, they did! - and I'm about finished rambling here as I listen to "Bye Bye Bye." The song seems so fitting right now, doesn't it? Bye, bye, bye! 

~

Gypsy   
Saturday, March 25, 2000 -- 6:44 

P. S. --   
< >Always remember to sing, "We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine," many, many times on a school bug going to a museum with another school. It's hilarious. I did it two days ago and the other school actually started singing it along with me. Hi, guys, at VJHS! I hope you remember the insanite on the bus! 

< >And yes, Hermione is _very_ accomplished for being such a powerful, smart witch, who is the editor of _The Daily Prophet_. I thought journalism would be a good thing for her to do. 

  
Disclaimers to everyone who contributed to my story (though I doubt they even knew it):   
< >Bernadette with her linked back pictures (since no one sent me any Draco pics!),   
< >J. H. Newman for "Lead, kindly light" quote.   
< >Sushma (my pen-pal in India) for the quote on a bookmark.   
< >The LA Times for _The Magic Times._

Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, Colin Creevey, Harry Potter, all the Weasleys, Cornelius Fudge, Tom the bartender, _The Daily Prophet_, and anything and everything in this story are copyright 1990 - 2000 J. K. Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Little Literary Agency. 

That is, except for Helena, Olivia, Pena, Mikaela, and Peter, and Reginold Whitney, and Jeremy Pollack, Allan Greenspan, Alona, and any other characters I made up are _mine_, copyright February/March 2000. 


End file.
